Points of No Return
by Night Zephyr
Summary: Almost sixteen, Ron discovers there really is something very special about him, and he just may need it to save them all. R/Hr **Completed pre-OotP, AU** Currently in update mode to replace quotation marks removed by host site.
1. Oh Wallabindle, Baby!

**~~ Points of No Return ~~**  
**by NightZephyr**

Disclaimer: All of Harry's wonderful, magical world belongs to J.K. Rowling, with her truly incredible imagination, and her amazing writing skills, which present it perfectly. Story beta- read by my wonderful SugarQuill beta-reader, Christina Teresa. Original characters and stories © L.J. Snow, 2002.

A/N: The story takes place during fifth year, when the wizarding world is far more unsettled than it was when Ron, Harry, and Hermione first arrived at Hogwarts. Rated PG-13 for bits of language, violence, and, well, the characters' celebration of the fact that there are two genders. (R/Hr)(It's just destiny)  
**  
**_**Dedication: **__  
This story is dedicated to all those Ron Weasley's who have passed through my classroom over the years. While poor in financial terms, they are rich in spirit and personality, always caring and loyal, and more than willing to share whatever little they have. Each one brings his own special gift-just that some get their gift open' later rather than sooner. May all their gifts one day take them past the Point of No Return' where they never have to face the anguish of being uncertain about their place in the world again_.

**~ Chapter 1 ~  
Oh, Wallabindle, Baby!**

It was a luscious sort of October day where the sun was bright, the air was crisp, and the sky was sapphire blue. Hogwarts had settled into the new school year by now, and Filch was less likely to find first-years lost and teary in the dungeons somewhere, or trapped in a corner while Peeves cackled and tormented them.

It was just the perfect sort of day to have class outdoors, and since Hagrid had become a little bolder with his Care of Magical Creatures studies (making things ever so much more interesting than feeding flobberworms forever), the fifth-year Gryffindors were actually rather content to head down the hill and toward the Forbidden Forest to Hagrid's hut.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were strolling down the hill, laughing and talking about how hard it would be to ruin a perfect day like this. Until they realized that the Slytherins were walking beside them to class, which reminded them that nothing could be as perfect as it seemed.

Draco Malfoy and his henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle, had just about caught up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The day seemed to have put even Malfoy in a good mood, which for him, meant he would spend it being particularly annoying.

"Hey, Weasley, your parents have to sell your house to pay for that crystal ball you broke?" taunted Malfoy. Ron's little mishap in Divination class several weeks ago had become a favorite topic of Draco's.

Ron clenched his fists as he glared at Draco and started angrily toward him, but Harry pulled him back by his robe.

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry, or we'll have Hagrid bring around another hippogriff so you can try your luck at being polite again.

Malfoy sneered at Harry, but shot back at Ron again: "Speaking of luck, Weasley, you know how you get seven years bad luck if you break a mirror? I hear it's nineteen years for a crystal ball."

"First of all, Malfoy, the crystal ball thing's old news- been out of the gossip loop lately or what?" Except for the sarcasm, Ron was showing exceptional patience with Malfoy now. He wasn't even sure why himself- must have been the weather. "And besides, if I _did_ have nineteen years of bad luck, there are only fourteen left."

Malfoy laughed. "What? You broke something else five years ago?"

Ron looked smug. "No. The bad luck count started when I met you."

Harry, Dean, Seamus, and several other Gryffindors nearby began laughing loudly. Hermione smiled almost proudly at Ron for a long moment, then turned a sneer nearly as mean as Malfoy's right back on Draco himself.

Currently outnumbered and taking this all in, Malfoy turned pink and then signaled for Crabbe and Goyle to walk faster.

As the Gryffindors approached Hagrid, Ron noticed the half-giant taking mental note of those students present and assembled for class as his eyes traveled from one student to another. When he got to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, he beamed at them. Hagrid then motioned for the class to follow him to a nearby animal pen that more closely resembled a small meadow.

"Yeh'r attention please, class. T'day, I have a special treat fer all of yeh. I'd like yeh all to look carefully at what yeh think yeh see in this field here," began Hagrid.

Those students closest to the fence began to peer between the railings, while those in the back stretched on tiptoe and leaned back and forth to see.

A hand went up.

"Miss Brown?" called Hagrid.

"Those are kangaroos," stated Lavender.

Inside the confines of the fence, most of the class had observed what did seem to be kangaroos. There were two that could be seen on their feet; one animal was leaning over a mound on the ground and watching it intently, the other had its back turned, but as it wheeled to face the class, a chorus of "ooooh, how cute!" came from the girls at the fence. There, inside a rather roomy pouch at the front of the second animal's belly, was a furry, cinnamon-colored baby, curious enough to come out and stare back at the class, but afraid enough to keep all except its eyes and the top of its head hidden.

"Oooh, they're just so sweet!" cooed Parvati, as several of the Slytherin boys pretended to gag.

"Well, yeah," Hagrid agreed, chuckling, "they can be sweet little things. But yeh haven't guessed exactly right as to what they are. These are rare animals; much more rare than common kangaroos, for these are some of..." (he paused for effect) "...the famous wallabindles! And if yeh look more closely in the pen, yeh'll see there are lots more than just two, plus the little tyke, o' course." Hagrid chuckled, seemingly pleased that he had fooled them all a bit. Does anyone know anythin' abou' wallabindles?"

This was Hermione's call to arms. She, Harry, and Ron had been at the back of the group, but at this she plucked her stuffed and heavy book bag from the ground and shoved it at Ron. "Here! Hold this!" she ordered, all but ripping open the top and leaning over it to rummage for her textbook.

"Oh, can I, Hermione, please? You don't know how long I've been waiting for this!" Ron begged sarcastically, rolling his eyes, but holding the bag anyway. Ron attempted to look down and watch what she was doing, but as Hermione reached and pushed, her bushy, honey-colored hair fluffed back and forth under his nose. He wrinkled it and tried not to sneeze, but he did notice her hair smelled _really_ nice. And the warmth of her body so near made him feel strange- but _good_ strange- he found himself hoping she wouldn't find her book right away.

Moments later, with a mighty yank, Hermione pulled her book from the bag, nicking Ron's chin with the corner. Not even noticing, she flipped open to the index of their textbook, _Temperamental Magical Creatures: Do You Dare to Care?_

"Hermione?" Hagrid called smiling, as her hand shot up.

"Wallabindles are a relative of the wallaby, a kind of kangaroo. So it says they do have powerful legs and can jump very well, in addition to the females having a pouch for the babies, Hermione summarized as she scanned the book. But they're also like anteaters in a way because they have pointy noses and long, long sticky tongues allowing them to extract ants out of their burrows. They have really strong tails that help them balance, but their tails can also grasp like a monkey's when they're fighting or trying to grab their young."

Most of the students were half listening as Hermione read aloud, but a few near the fence were whispering to themselves and pointing into the pen. Apparently, they had finally discovered something else inside. Pushed into the tufts of tall grass could be seen what appeared to be a number of light reddish-brown, furry, Quaffle-sized balls, lying motionless.

The wallabindle that had been peering down the ant burrow made a high-pitched squeal, plunged its tongue far into the mound and pulled it back, chewing the crunchy ants happily as it rolled its sticky tongue up into its mouth. This must have been some sort of a signal, because as the students watched, one after the other of the furry balls began rolling around, sticking out first one large foot and leg, then another. Next they rolled out their body, chest, two short front legs and, finally, a head from their belly pouch. It was amazing that such a large body could fit into such a small space.

As they emerged, the waking wallabindles hopped over quickly and gathered around the one chewing, beginning to push and shove each other as they neared it. Several, discouraged that they were being pushed away, began to sniff the ground for a mound of their own.

"Can we touch 'em?" asked Seamus, as the animals seemed to settle down.

"I don' see why not. Try not to startle any o' the ones sleepin', but once they're standin' and calm, they're usually sort of nice." Hagrid opened a gate, and the class filed in cautiously, beginning to break into smaller groups.

Ron exchanged a look with Harry that showed they were thinking the same thing; Hagrid's idea of 'nice' animals was always a little suspect.

Most of the students were approaching the wallabindles with fascination. Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl, was not so impressed. "So that's all they do? Lick ants out of the ground and roll themselves into a ball to sleep? Big deal! That big, ugly orange cat that hangs around with Granger could do that."

Malfoy sniggered, and poked Crabbe and Goyle to do the same (even though they didn't have a clue as to why). Pansy smiled with satisfaction when she noticed Draco's approval. She then shot a smile-turned-sneer directly at Harry and Ron.

Ron and Harry were looking daggers first at Pansy, then at Draco. But it was Ron who muttered in his friend's ear (perhaps since he had mixed feelings about Crookshanks anyway). "We won't do it now, Harry. Not here. Even Hagrid couldn't ignore all of us hexing one another in class. We'll get even-later." Harry kept looking, but said nothing. Ron looked to see if Hermione had heard, but she was still outside the fence, reading her book.

"Well, Miss Parkinson," Hagrid said quickly, "yeh may not ha' seen what makes these animals so diff'rent . Yeh see-"

A ruckus near the end of the pen interrupted Hagrid's explanation. One of the smaller wallabindles had tried to push in front of a larger, dominant one to get his share of ants from a mound. The larger wallabindle gave the smaller a shove to indicate that was not such a good idea. What resulted was a great deal of loud, high-pitched squealing, ending in a low growl and a stare-down of some thirty seconds. Whatever the larger wallabindle said with his noises or his eyes, the smaller one seemed to realize his serious error and in a millisecond he had rolled into his pouch and was bumping rapidly across the grass, with the larger one, also now a furry ball, in hot pursuit.

Students were leaping out of the path as the two fur balls rolled all around the pen, the smaller trying in vain to get away. Periodically, the animals would roll out from their pouches to stand up and fight, kicking out with their powerful legs, only to curl back inside and continue the chase. Even though it _was_ somewhat comical, the blows themselves were quite vicious and if they connected, could easily throw the opponent to the ground.

"They're very strong-minded creatures," Hagrid continued, "and intend to get their own way, one way or another. But the problem these two ha' started - well, yeh don't want to get em _all_ stirred up, b'cause...uh-oh." Hagrid looked around him to see that the chase of the first two wallabindles was getting the others agitated. All of them, except the mother, had begun to jump around excitedly, taunting and kicking out at one another, almost daring one another into a row.

"Okay, class," Hagrid said rather urgently, "looks like we need to get em into their cages before they get out o' hand. Grab em when they're rolled up, stand back when they're kickin'. The other cages are by the fence. Might work better to do it in pairs. " Hagrid himself rushed to grab a cage as well.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, and in silent agreement, headed toward the fence to gather one of the wrought iron ball cages. On their way, they glanced at Hermione and shook their heads. She was still outside the fence, only now beginning to look up and take notice something else was going on.

Harry circled on one of the bouncing wallabindles, which eyed him suspiciously. Ron was sneaking up behind with the cage, when suddenly, one of Ron's large sneakers snapped a twig, and the wallabindle was off. He jumped high, turning around in mid-air, and kicked out at Harry's shoulder firmly enough to knock him to the ground. As the animal spun, he struck out high enough in the other direction to hit the large round cage in Ron's hands and jam it into his middle. Ron found himself seated on the ground as well, with a speeding fur ball passing him by.

"That went well, didn't it?" Ron said sarcastically to Harry, standing and dusting himself off.

The two friends looked around the pen, realizing the wallabindles were way past getting out of hand. Students were running everywhere, trying to close in on the animals, grab them, or jump out of the way of their powerful kicks. But the wallabindles were everywhere, too- only they were moving twice as fast.

Harry and Ron looked over at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were trying to work together for a capture. Draco was dancing a jig trying to outfox a fur ball rolling back and forth on the ground. He was acting frustrated as he shouted instructions to Crabbe and Goyle, who held either side of a cage. Draco's problem seemed to be that the delayed-reaction thinking of his companions just caused them to gawk at one another until they understood the direction Malfoy gave them two minutes ago-far too slow to deal with a wallabindle.

As Draco screamed another command at the two, the wallabindle unrolled to its full height, kicked Draco square in the chest, and seated him soundly in a large warm pile of wallabindle dung.

Halfway to escape, the animal kicked out again, this time at Goyle. The swift strike hit the hulking student from the side and caused a sickening thunk as he and Crabbe smacked heads and fell stunned to the grass. At this, the wallabindle changed into a ball, and rolled right over the large mass of body that was Crabbe and Goyle in dreamland.

Ron and Harry burst out laughing. This was just too choice to miss, even if they should have been trapping more wallabindles.

"Well, at least we know it won't do them much damage," Ron laughed, looking at the thick skulls of Malfoy's two assistants'. Then he looked directly at Draco. "And _we_ already know how much Malfoy stinks. Now everyone else'll know, too!"

Hermione had seen what happened and smiled to herself, but was acting concerned about something else. She had finally let herself in the gate (when there were no hurtling fur balls nearby) and was walking purposefully across the pen, dodging a rolling object here and there in passing. "Harry! Ron! Look-over there!"

"Hermione! Come here! You've got to see this!" called Ron, ignoring her command and still laughing at his least favorite Slytherins, who were trying to regroup.

Hermione reached her two friends and grabbed Ron's arm, forcing him to turn and look where she pointed. "Look-over there! Come on! You two need to help! I'd go, but there are no more cages." She looked, exasperated, from Harry to Ron, neither of which moved, both confused as to the problem. "Okay, if you won't do it -well-just-give me the cage, then!" Hermione grabbed the heavy cage from Ron's grasp and stomped off with it before either Ron or Harry could reply.

Harry looked at Ron and shrugged, turning to see where Hermione was off to.

Ron studied her closely as she strode across the pen, impressed with her determination. _Some days with Hermione, she just won't take no for an answer, _he thought. _She's so different from girly girls like Lavender. Hermione's so strong within herself- she stands up for what she believes, and has the brains to back it up. She never just squeals and lets the boys fight it out. Sometimes that makes me completely mental, and other days, it's sorta- sex- _Surprised at the word that _almost_ came to mind about someone who was just a friend, he blushed and decided someone must have snuck in and bewitched him about girls this year.

Turning quickly to Harry to change his train of thought, he began, "Have a go again, shall w-"

Just then, the two heard a shriek from Hermione, who was standing near the mother wallabindle. Another large wallabindle had been harassing the female with the baby still in her pouch, trying to get her into a chase. Ron realized that must have been Hermione's concern-what would happen to the baby?

The mother wallabindle was becoming increasingly irritated, and the baby in the pouch was bouncing up and down, clinging desperately as the mother jumped; Hermione kept her gaze fixed on the animal who was trying to pick a fight.

The offending wallabindle had kicked out at the mother. Hermione had batted at his leg with the cage while he was in the air, knocking him to the ground. Undaunted, the animal struggled to his feet quickly and made the same horrible squeal-to-growl that seemed a declaration of war with the earlier pair of wallabindles. Now his focus was Hermione.

Hermione held the cage in front of her like a shield, leaning forward so as not to be thrown off balance as the angry wallabindle kicked out at her again and again. But he was trying to circle round and kick at her from another side, and she had no other defense.

Harry and Ron ran to help their friend, but at the same time, the mother used the momentary distraction to reach into her pouch, turn around, and set the baby in a tall clump of grass several feet away and out of harm's way. Now she was ready to fight her own battle. The mother came back alone, crazed and kicking. Even as Harry and Ron were poised to distract the growling wallabindle from Hermione, the mother delivered a fierce kick to the animal-then another, then...the growling wallabindle curled into a fur ball and rolled away, with the mother following close behind.

"AAARRGGHHH!" Ron screamed suddenly, clutching behind his shoulder and turning swiftly as if he could catch up with his back and relieve the problem. But as he turned, Hermione and Harry gasped.

Firmly attached to Ron's back, and hanging by sixteen razor sharp claws, was the baby wallabindle. Anyone watching would have seen the poor little wallabindle watching in terror, trying to stay hidden in the grass as his mother had signaled. But seeing her roll away was too much for him. He sprinted over and jumped to cling desperately at the first thing he saw with wallabindle coloring. And it happened to be... Weasley hair.

The baby's eyes were like saucers and the panicked breathing made his cat-sized body fairly heave. He was making a soft, pitiful whimpering cry and wheezing.

"Get it off! Geroff! Take it off!" Ron cried out, still flailing wildly.

"Ron, stop it! Stop!" scolded Hermione. "You're scaring him!"

"Scaring him? He's bloody ripping the skin off my back!"

"Well... " she knitted her eyebrows and bit her lip, trying to think what to do.

"Harry! Harry!" yelled a deep, familiar voice nearby. "Harry, can yeh lend a hand?"

Harry and Hermione glanced over at Hagrid, who was on the ground attempting to stuff a partially rolled wallabindle into one of the round cages. At odd intervals, a back foot or front paw would pop out, and Hagrid, unable to force the animal for fear he would hurt it, needed several more hands.

Harry had looked somewhat dumbfounded at Ron's situation. He glanced questioningly at Hermione.

"Go on, Harry," she started. "Hagrid's is bigger than this one. We'll think of something." She turned back to Ron, who was a bit calmer, but still wincing with pain. "Okay, Ron. Turn and face away from me, but try not to jump or move fast. I think I can get him loose if you calm down."

Ron looked down at her, his eyes watering in pain. "Calm down? You calm down when you have this thing on you," he muttered. But he had no better suggestion, so he did as he was told.

Hermione began by stroking the baby wallabindle softly and talking to it in a low, even voice. The baby's breathing started to slow and he eventually began to look trustingly into her eyes. Soon, Hermione could wrap one arm around the baby's furry middle, as she often did with Crookshanks, and gently pull one claw after the other from Ron's shredded robe and shirt, and his semi-shredded back.

As Ron looked away trying to deal with the pain, he realized he had never heard Hermione speak with such a soft, nurturing tone. He found it soothed him as well. Finally, Ron felt the weight of the baby completely leave his back. "Oww..." he moaned, turning slowly to face his little attacker, who was still held belly out from Hermione in her arms. "How bad is it, anyway? It feels pretty bad."

"Well, I hope you don't need wizard immunizations for wallabindle scratches, because he did draw quite a bit of blood, but- I'm sure Madam Pomfrey can take care of it. It's pretty minor compared to what she's used to," assured Hermione.

"Minor to you, maybe!" he growled. Ron's weak sense of calm began to leave as the pain became more edgy. He felt the urge to lash out, strike the little animal from Hermione's arms and chase it away. But then he looked into its face. Ron half-wished he could spend his anger, but knew he could never try and hurt anything that looked at him like that.

The two friends had less than a moment to consider what to do next when two fur balls unrolled almost directly beneath Hermione and immediately began kicking at one another. Hermione started, causing the baby to lunge again at Ron and cling to the front of him this time. Though she was thrown off-balance by the baby's spring, Hermione managed to support enough of the little wallabindle's weight that he did not have to sink his claws in skin-deep, much to Ron's relief. For his part, all Ron really could do was catch and help support the baby with his one free arm-the other arm was keeping all three of them held together, balanced precariously, but upright.

The two fur balls soon rolled away to fight somewhere else, and Hermione regained her footing. She tried to slowly shift the baby's weight to Ron so she could step away from leaning her entire body against his side. But to her surprise, she found her upper arm to be wrapped in a tight grip by a long, strong, winding wallabindle tail. The baby was still hanging onto Ron desperately, but apparently wanted the comfort of having both him and Hermione at once. Hermione would not be leaving Ron's side any time soon.

Trying to think through the pain from his back, and unable to see past the top of the furry little wheezing head buried in his chest (the wallabindle's, of course), Ron didn't realize what the problem was. He could feel he was no longer keeping Hermione from falling, and he was becoming a little curious as to _why_ he could still feel her breathing hard against his rib cage. Not that he exactly _minded (Hmm, he thought, I think the pain's easing a bit now-I am feeling better) _but he did feel a little conspicuous out here in the middle of the pen like this.

"Er,... Hermione?" he questioned.

"I know," she said. "The wallabindle's got my arm gripped with his tail. I'll try to move."

As Hermione tried to swing herself out from under Ron's upheld right arm, she found the grip on her own arm tighter and the baby sounding more panicked. Ron cradled the little wallabindle in the crook of his long left arm, but for each inch Hermione managed to move, the sharp claws of the baby moved that much deeper through the clothing on Ron's chest.

"Ouch! Okay, Hermione, just stand still!" Ron said, beginning to look very pained once more. "He's digging in again-he's afraid you'll leave. Just -lean back where you were. I'd like to leave class with a _little _skin left today."

Hermione eased back against Ron, still trying to help by holding the baby up as much as she could at this angle. "Sorry. I mean, I didn't know he'd do that," she said.

Unable to move much due to the pain from his back, Ron could feel Hermione leaning in every direction she could to see if there was any other help for them available. Most of the students and Hagrid were near the far end of the pen, still struggling with the last few liberated wallabindles.

Hermione then moved back against Ron's side and looked behind them to a large rounded pile of rock. If we move together, I think we-you, could lean back against that rock until they're done. Maybe it wouldn't hurt as much if you could relax a little bit. But we'll have to move at the same time.

"Er...okay," Ron agreed. "It's gotta be better than this."

Ron appreciated Hermione's attempts to help him, but he could tell she was feeling rather awkward and embarrassed, as was he. He wondered what she was thinking and angled his view down to the right. Though he couldn't fully see her face, he could see enough to realize she was blushing furiously, even redder than he imagined he had even been.

She began, very business-like: "I think if I put my arms around your waist and still keep my shoulder by his back, I can help get you to the rock without worrying him. Does it hurt if I do this?" She carefully circled his waist and put gentle pressure on his opposite side with her hands.

There was certainly nothing about her touch that hurt him-in fact, it was quite the opposite. _She's just your friend, Weasley, _Ron kept telling himself, trying to shake off the mental image of he and his other 'friend' Harry in exactly the same predicament. _You can do this_._ It's no different than hugging Ginny, and that's no big deal._ But the problem jumped out at him immediately - with Hermione, right here, right now, it felt like a big deal.

Ron suddenly felt he had to do something, anything, to get away from facing this pretty wonderful, but terribly scary feeling. Amazing himself that he could summon the energy at this moment, he smiled down at her with his lopsided, cocky grin. "Why, Hermione! I didn't know you cared!" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. _  
_  
Ron could almost physically feel her defenses going up. Hermione tensed against his side, and immediately her uncertainty was gone. Though the wonderful feeling had also left, for the most part, the awful tension had gone with it, and he now felt like he was on familiar ground. Irritating Hermione, fighting with her, teasing her-that felt normal; thinking about why her touch shot butterflies through his stomach-that was a whole other issue.

"Look," she began tersely, beginning to loosen her arms," if you don't want my help, it's perfectly all right with me. I'll just leave you and your little friend here to your own devices and go on with my work."

Ron's eyes widened as he realized she just might do that, and the baby wallabindle was tensing on his arm as her voice rose. "No! I mean, no, it doesn't hurt if you do that. Not at all," he said quickly. Just to make sure she didn't go, (and because his arm was killing him) he wrapped his suspended arm around her back, not noticing until afterward what he had actually done. The wonderful feeling was trying to fight its way back.

Hermione's eyes snapped up to look into his, questioningly.

Ron could feel himself turning red as she stared up at him with an odd expression on her face. But he was already into it this far, he was hurting, and he didn't want to fight. "Is this... okay?" he asked tentatively, having to look away after a moment from the intensity of her eyes.

Hermione quickly looked down at her feet. "Um...yeah." She was rarely at this much of a loss for words, and it took her a moment before she could bring herself back to the problem at hand.

# # #

The sight that greeted first Harry, then Hagrid, then the rest of the class as they tiredly straggled back across the pen, was nearly as amazing as anything else they had seen that day. For there, leaning against the rocks, was Ron, one arm cradling a sleeping baby wallabindle, and the other wrapped securely around Hermione, as she leaned against his side, her own arm encircling his waist.

It looked for all the world as if they were just out together enjoying a beautiful fall day. Staying calm seemed to help Ron with the pain,so after only a few minutes, the two (well, three) had been lulled into a quiet, peaceful mood and were completely unaware they were being watched.

The remainder of the class had finished caging the wallabindles and the pen had gone quiet except for some exhausted panting and sighs of relief from a few of the students. Most sat at the far end of the pen for a moment resting as Hagrid sorted through the cages, looking for the mother wallabindle to release only her.

Harry came to a dead stop, staring, as he arrived near the rocks. He had left Ron screaming in pain and Hermione screaming at Ron-how in the world had it come to this? He wanted to alert his friends before anyone else arrived, but Hagrid was already right behind him, and Harry couldn't think of anything sensible to say.

"Well, wouldja look at that," Hagrid said quietly, not sure which part of the scene surprised him the most.

Harry became aware of others wandering up around him, stopping to gawk at the trio themselves. He knew he had to say something - it was probably already too late to keep Ron and Hermione from some merciless teasing and gossip, whatever the cause.

"Hey, Ron, we finally caught that one that kicked us," Harry said lamely. But it was enough.

Ron and Hermione, startled out of their quiet mood, both jumped at Harry's voice, coming to full awareness and pulling as far apart from one another as possible under the circumstances. They turned to look at the number of faces staring their way, turned back to each other in realization, and groaned.

"Oh, great! I hope you didn't get us a detention, Ron," Hermione whispered irritably under her breath.

"A detention? From Hagrid?" was Ron's immediate reply. Then he thought a moment. "Hey! What do you mean _me_, get us a detention'? I didn't plan this, you know! If I had, I would have made it a lot less painful - for _me_, anyway!"

Hermione glared at him. "Really? And _what_ do you mean by that, exactly?" She looked as if she thought of something, then looked over at Hagrid. "Hagrid, can you help us, please? Ron _frightened _the baby wallabindle and he won't let us go."

Ron glared back at Hermione this time, opening his mouth to respond, but Malfoy had just arrived.

Malfoy stared a moment, then began laughing so hard it was difficult for him to stand. "Hey, Weasley, you and Mudbl—"Forgetting himself, Draco looked quickly at Hagrid to see if he heard "- uh- Granger, starting a family so soon? He's really cute, looks just like his parents! Don't you think so, Uncle Harry?"

An amount of snickering and some outright laughter was heard from the class, especially from the Slytherins. Harry thought it was tough to tell which Ron and Hermione were doing more of: blushing or fuming.

This was just the kind of thing Harry had been afraid of. He was sure there was a perfectly logical explanation, but _he _was certainly anxious to hear it and even so, Ron and Hermione were likely to be the talk of the school for awhile.

"Shut it, Malfoy!" was all Harry could muster. He started over to his two friends, but was gently pushed aside by the mother wallabindle when Hagrid released her.

The mother wallabindle hopped calmly up to the two students holding her baby and looked up at Hermione gratefully. She flicked out her long, black, sticky tongue and licked Ron several times in the face, leaving some of the gelatinous orange saliva stuck to his cheeks.

Ron grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut. As soon as he realized she was finally done, he opened his eyes just in time for the baby to offer his thanks in the same way.

"Could this day get any worse?" Ron muttered, feeling the slime start to slide down his chin. The baby wallabindle then released his grip on Hermione's arm (she had been trying to hold her arm toward the crowd so as many students as possible could see this situation with Ron was NOT what it seemed).

As soon as the little wallabindle loosened his tail, Ron gently picked the baby from his chest and held him out toward the mother's belly, where he scrambled to get inside the safe, warm pouch. Looking out at the still-staring crowd, Ron said quietly toward the baby inside, "Any room in there for me?"

Ron struggled to get fully upright from the rock without moving and hurting his back, then at Harry's request, turned to show Hagrid the injury. The scratch marks had stopped bleeding for the most part, but had swollen considerably and were oozing some purple and orange goo.

Hagrid winced at the sight. "Yeah, he got yeh, all right. Yeh go ahead on up to the hospital wing, Ron. Harry and Hermione can help yeh along." With that, the three friends started slowly up the hill toward the castle.

# # #

"Now, Mr. Weasley, it will take only a few minutes for me to prepare the salve. I could, of course, heal the wounds over right away, but wallabindle scratches have powerful bacterial properties, and they're likely to get infected without using the salve first overnight. You may speak with your friends, but they must leave immediately upon my return. Understood?"

Ron was sitting up in bed, listening intently to Madam Pomfrey. He briefly wondered if anyone but Dumbledore ever got away with _not_ listening to her (and even Dumbledore used the privilege only in extreme circumstances). Ron shivered as a draft blew on his back through the open hospital gown. Usually students were allowed to wear their own pajamas, but Madam Pomfrey allowed him only the pants and then gave him this other garment to allow the skin to breathe . Breathe, it did. He nodded in agreement to her command.

Madam Pomfrey threw back the curtain from around Ron's bed and whisked herself away, revealing a whole group of waiting well-wishers.

Harry and Ginny were the first to walk up to the edge of the bed.

"You know, Ron, between Crookshanks and this, this—" Ginny paused.

"Wallabindle?" Harry guessed.

"Yeah, the wallabindle," Ginny continued."I'm wondering. You're tall, you're lean, perhaps all these clawed creatures mistake you for a scratching post."

"Very funny, little sister,"Ron said sullenly. "Been taking Fred and George lessons?"

"She most certainly has not!" protested George. "She's a Weasley through and through. Comes by the harassment genes naturally."

Ron looked over at George, who had both arms wrapped completely around Fred, half dragging him over to the bedside. The twins looked at their brother expectantly. Ron sighed and shook his head. "Okay, I'll bite. What's your problem?"

"Well, I sort of got hurt," Fred said, his eyes twinkling. "And I needed some help to get around, so without any willing females to fill the need, George is trying to help comfort me and make me feel better. What do you think, Hermione? Do you think it'll work? I hear you and Ron are experts in this kind of healing. Well, actually, I hear the version you two practice is a little more intense."

Hermione, who had been hanging back sulkily near the wall, sneered at Fred and turned to look out the window. She'd been putting up with whispers and snickers behind her back all day since the incident, even after the cause was known.

Ron started scanning the room and patting around the bed urgently as if searching for something. "Okay... Okay. You two stand right there. I know there must be something here I can throw at you, but it's got to be big and heavy and painful. Wait right there. I'll find something in a minute," said Ron, only half-joking.

The sound of quick footsteps coming from the other room interrupted Ron's search. Madam Pomfrey, carrying a small steaming black pot with a cloth holder, came to tell them all they would have to leave.

Just then, the hospital wing doors burst open, and two Hufflepuff students charged through the door helping a third student who was howling in pain. Ron recognized the now-moaning student as Ernie Macmillan, a fifth-year Hufflepuff that he knew from Herbology class several semesters ago. Even though it was difficult to figure out right away what the problem was, it seemed that Ernie had been doing his transfiguration homework while eating, had said the word shocks instead of socks in his spell, and had ended up with non-removable socks that sent his feet intermittent electric currents.

The Hufflepuffs helped the boy onto an empty bed, while Madam Pomfrey hurried over to Ron's bedside.

"Alright now, it's important to get this on those scratches right away before this cools, but I have other business to attend to," Madam Pomfrey said tersely. "One of you needs to stay to apply this salve to Mr. Weasley's wounds before it thickens and hardens. The rest of you will need to leave immediately." She looked around the group for any volunteers. Another yelp came from the shocking sock boy. Madam Pomfrey shoved the salve into the hands of the nearest person and fled to help the Hufflepuff.

The receiver of the salve was Fred, who quickly passed it off to Ginny. "Sorry, little brother, but I'm not touching you!"

Ginny thrust the salve pot at George. "And I'm not touching _those_!" she said, pointing at the oozing scratches.

George looked at the clock and quickly passed the salve pot to Harry. "You know I would, Ronnie, but we have Quidditch practice- five minutes ago!"

Harry, who had been looking a bit frantic for lack of an excuse, suddenly looked relieved. "Oh, yeah, I forgot! We do! Sorry, Ginny, but will you be okay walking back alone?"

"Yes, sure. I have to stop by the library anyway," Ginny replied.

"But, what do I do with-?" Harry was looking around for someone to pass the pot to when he spied Hermione, still by the window. He walked over and pushed it into her hands. "Here, Hermione, you've done a really good job taking care of him so far today." Hermione's face showed immediately that it had been the wrong thing to say, but Harry didn't have time to clear it up now.

Everyone leaving began to back away, wishing Ron a speedy recovery.

"Yeah, thank you all for your concern and for CHEERING ME UP!" Ron yelled sarcastically out the door after them. Then they were gone.

All of a sudden it was silent in Ron's end of the hospital room. The only noise was the commotion down the way around Ernie and his socks. Hermione just stood staring into the steaming salve pot in her hands.

Ron looked down at the bed for a moment, but then glanced over at Hermione, who had moved to his bedside. The steam was turning her hair into little curls all around her face-they shone in the amber light from the window, glittering as if enchanted by tiny fairy lights. After a minute, Hermione felt Ron's staring fascination with her and looked up to let her eyes meet his. The two stood this way for a moment, searching, wondering if the other felt something, too, or if it was just their own imagination.

Hermione spoke first. Ron didn't know what to expect, but was half disappointed and half relieved when her words brought them back to reality.

"You know, I'm not a nurse or anything," she said quietly. "Maybe I should just let Madam Pomfrey do this later." She set the pot on the bedside table and started to move away.

Ron didn't think, but reacted. He grabbed her hand and held on a moment, then realized what he was doing and let go, his ears turning red. But he tried to think of something witty to say to keep her there. "I heard a Muggle saying once about bad friends need enemies-or something like that."

Hermione smiled a tiny smile for the first time since she came. "You mean: With friends like that, who needs enemies'? Yeah, that seems about right for all of them tonight."

Ron smiled, too. He was glad to have someone there who wasn't determined to give him a bad time. "Yeah, for once I think I'm glad they all had other plans. But, of course, they couldn't miss stopping by to say their piece about today."

"Yes, well," Hermione said quietly, "I feel like the whole school's talking about that."

"No one else is here to bother you now," Ron said encouragingly. "And as for Fred and George, I've told you before- just ignore them. I know it's hard, I've been trying my whole life, but it does get easier. I figure by the time I'm sixty, they won't bother me at all."

Suddenly, Ron's face tensed in pain.

"Ron? Are you okay?" she asked gently.

"Yeah, it just hurts," he answered. "It'll get better in a minute."

Hermione thought carefully if she could handle doing it before asking him. "Do you... want me to put on the salve for you?"

Ron was somewhat surprised that she would offer. He could only imagine how ugly the mess on his back looked. "You mean you don't mind?"

"Well, I _mind_," she teased.

"You don't have to, you know. But who knows when that will get taken care of?" Ron said, jerking a thumb at more whining sounds from the other end of the room. "Just think, the longer it takes me to get back to normal, the longer you'll have to go without a good argument."

Hermione's eyes sparkled as she considered this. "Okay, then let's. I'll go wash my hands and you lie on your stomach so I can see what I'm doing better. Let's hope I can put it on right," Hermione said with a doubtful note to her voice.

She returned to find Ron lying on his stomach with the ties to the gown undone so that the long, purplish-orange scratches reaching from just below his neck almost down the top of his pajama pants were now easily visible. She winced as she looked at the wounds, seeming to almost feel them as well as he did.

Hermione swallowed hard and reached two fingers into the salve pot, scooping out some mushy, gray ointment that looked like wet cement. She muttered under her breath, telling herself she could do this as she touched the first scratch on Ron's back and gently dragged the salve across it. The salve started to bubble up and fizz into a light purple froth on the wound.

Ron's reaction was immediate. "Oooh, you don't know how much better that feels. It felt like it was on fire, and that stuff puts it out. More! More!" he demanded teasingly. Relieving the pain that had been with him most of the day had another effect as well: it started to make him very relaxed. He wasn't exactly asleep, just letting go of everything except the feeling of Hermione's fingers and the salve. His mind began to wander.

_*Why does he keep following me? I just wish he'd go away. He makes me feel so creepy. I've got to find that book fast and get out of here.* _

_Book? What book?I don't need a book now._  
_  
* Isn't it a coincidence, Miss Weasley-*_

_(Miss Weasley?Ron thought)_

*-_that we're both here working on the same subject? * _

_Malfoy! That was Malfoy's voice!_

_* Maybe we should work together, you and I. Somewhere else. Don't you know how many other girls would love to have me- I mean, my help? * _

_*Oh, he is so...so full of himself!* _

_You are such a slimy git, Malfoy!_

_* I thought you had a problem with 'poor girls', as you call me, Malfoy. * _

_Tell him, Gin! Wait -how can I be with Ginny? _

_* Not any more. Maybe they don't have to care as much about their reputations. * _

_*Okay, he's breathing on my neck now.* _

_Oh, disgusting! _

_*This is starting to make me nervous! There's no one to help me this time, either._ _Oh, why did I leave my wand on the table? * _

_Where is Madam Pince? Or anybody? She's-I'm- afraid! _

_*He's pushing me up against the bookshelf. Don't panic, Ginny, just get away. But he's just a kid- how can he __**feel **__so evil?* _

_* Come on, Ginny. I promise I'll help you with yours if you help me with mine. And I'll even help you with your paper, too. * _

_You bloody filthy-minded slime, Malfoy! ...What's that? Something- else- is in here. _

_*Oh, no! His hand's up above me on the shelf-he'll have me pinned here in a minute. It's now or never. Elbow straight back to the ribs-NOW!* _

"Elbow straight back to the ribs -NOW!" Ron yelled, jumping up onto his knees on the bed and batting the salve pot completely out of Hermione's hands in the process. It landed upside down on the floor, the salve oozing out.

Hermione jumped back from the bedside in shock and surprise. She glared at Ron angrily, acting as if he had planned this to scare her. "You great stupid prat, Ron Weasley! See if I ever try to help you again!" she shouted, then promptly stormed out the door of the hospital wing.

"Mr. Weasley! You calm down this instant!" scolded Madam Pomfrey, rushing over. "You should be thankful to people for helping you instead of yelling at them! And look what you've done!" The floor was bubbling and hissing with light green froth now.

Ron, dumbfounded at what had just happened, sat there on his knees with a ridiculous expression on his face. He was certain that Malfoy was just here, bothering him. Bothering _him?_ And he never remembered feeling afraid of what Malfoy would do before. Plus he had to get that book for the assignment. _What assignment? _And why was he sitting up on his knees like this? _It HURT! _

Ron thought back a moment to before Ginny left. She said she was going to the library from here. What if he was there with her? He _felt_ like he was with her. In fact, he felt like he _was _her (too WEIRD!). And what was that he sensed in his dream besides Ginny and Draco? A presence floated just at the edge of his mind's reach, but Ginny's fear had distracted him from being able to focus on it. Ginny (or he?) had sensed it-the _evil _in Draco-but was it him, or was it something else there _with_ him? As horrible as Malfoy could be to people, Ron had never known Draco to make them feel cold and helpless and hopeless at the same time just by his presence. Only one thing he knew of could make people feel like that. The thought brought a mental image that he pushed away determinedly-and then came the anger.

_This whole thing is stupid! Why does this keep happening? _he thought. _It had to be just a dream or something. But if it wasn't a dream, if I could somehow sense what was going on in the library, Ginny could be in real danger, not from just Malfoy, but from that, that other...thing! _Thinking this, Ron's strong sense of logic told him he hadn't been in the library- he couldn't have been. He was lying here just a moment ago with Hermione salving his wounds. And-_oh, NO! Hermione! _Where was she? Even though he vaguely remembered hearing an angry voice somewhere in the distance, Ron had no idea what had just happened here in this room, except that it reminded him too much of the crystal ball crash in Professor Trelawney's class.

Ron finally calmed down enough to slowly ease back down on his side. He tried desperately to sort things out in his mind, but his wounds were starting to hurt horribly again from all the moving about. And even though he didn't exactly know where Hermione had gone, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he was in trouble with her-again.


	2. Encounters and Late Revelations

**~ Chapter 2 ~  
Encounters**

Valeria Cruz strode into her bedroom and flicked on her radio. It was already old and scratched when she'd bought it at the pawn shop, but the static wasn't usually too bad, and besides, it was all they could afford. Listening to the pulsing Spanish disco music for a moment, she stood with her finger on the dial, deciding if the volume was low enough to keep from disturbing her grandmother in the next room. Finally convinced it was okay, she threw herself on the bed and stretched out her tall, lanky seventeen-year-old frame, pushing the flattened pillow into a wad under her long, straight black hair.

More bored than tired, Valeria rolled on her side and looked around the shabby little room. The torn curtains, the shredding carpet, once bright and garish, were now dulled with dirt and age, but at least the one awful painting in the room looked no worse hanging at an angle to cover a rather large hole in the wall.

Everything Valeria owned in the world could be stowed easily in the two tattered cardboard boxes she could see in the tiny door-less closet. Two or three articles of clothing strewn about the room practically emptied the one box, except for the hand-me-down winter coat she'd had since she was thirteen. _Guess that makes it easy to move, _she thought sardonically. _Can be ready to go in five minutes. Maybe three. Heaven knows, I never get out of practice._

She had lost count of the times she'd found a landlord, or even the fearful neighbors, standing with boxes in hand, _those _boxes, her weeping grandmother waiting on their current doorstep as she returned from school. The hurriedly packed boxes were then thrust at them as they were commanded to leave that place, leave that town, and take their evil with them.

# # #

"There they are!"

Susana, Valeria's newfound friend, waved to a group of girls approaching them.  
There was no lack of young people in the sleepy little Spanish port town, just an overall lack of money. It was for this reason that Valeria actually felt a bit more comfortable here than in some of the other places they'd lived. She and her grandmother didn't have much less than anyone else in the little fishing village and almost everyone lived in the same type of tiny run-down bungalow as she did.

The group of girls swarmed around Susana as if they hadn't seen her in months, but Valeria knew it had only been since yesterday at school.

"Okay, everybody, this is Valeria. She'd appreciate it if everyone would stop calling her just 'the new girl' now. She does have a name. Right, Val?"

Susana looked to Valeria to confirm and Valeria just smiled shyly. Valeria wasn't good enough at 'reading' people after just a few weeks to know if Susana was really that nice and sensitive to her feelings, or if she just wanted to be the first one in town to find out all about 'the new girl'. In fact, Valeria wasn't certain why Susana had befriended her at all, just that Valeria found she wanted desperately to go along with it and feel as if she fit in with some people her own age for once.

After finishing introductions pleasantly, the group wandered back down the street toward the cinema, chatting among themselves.

Valeria's sudden dizziness took her by surprise. It caused her knee to wobble and she stepped off the sidewalk. Embarrassed, she glanced around the group quickly to see if anyone noticed. She acted as if nothing happened and pushed a nagging thought from her mind.

As they approached the cinema, Valeria's heart sank. She was working hard enough at making some new female friends, but it looked as if the girls had made arrangements to meet with a group of boys from school, as well. And in her life, in her mind, nothing had ever gone better because there was a boy, or boys, involved.

The dizziness returned. Valeria was trying hard to focus so she wouldn't faint or fall._ Okay,_ she told herself,_ you're just nervous. It's been seven weeks now since the last time. It's nothing- it'll go away. _This time she pushed _hard _against the feeling that was fighting to come through.

Susana stepped up to make introductions again, and Valeria only nodded her way through them, willing herself to act normal while she fought with the vertigo in her head. _Please!_ she prayed, _please let them think I'm okay, that I'm normal!_

Introductions over, the now larger group began to filter through the single-file line at the entrance of the ancient theatre.

# # #

The dark quiet theatre and the rather dull old movie had calmed Valeria somewhat. When the entire group decided afterwards to head to a nearby café for a soda, she didn't even feel especially panicked. Sitting and sipping her soda, it was nice to listen to people gossiping and chattering happily, and even if she wasn't joining in much, at least she was being included-and for the moment, accepted.

Then, she sensed it. The dizziness came back with a renewed vengeance, bringing with it a wave of nausea that made her clutch suddenly at her middle.

_No! _her mind screamed as if her thoughts alone could resist it. _No, leave me alone! It's not fair! _She could feel the emotions pouring into her by themselves: the depression, the sadness, the hopelessness, the bleak and utter darkness. Valeria tried to push back, gasping for breath and struggling to maintain what would outwardly appear normal to the others.

Her vision blurred momentarily, then all turned a dull gray. The feelings were mounting like an enormous black tidal wave, gaining momentum and hurtling towards her. She could almost see at the wave crest the beings, the black hooded figures. One held out its gray scaly hand, as if ready to reach for her, ready to take her and sweep her with them, bending her will to theirs. She reached inside to the depths of herself and for a moment she believed she could still fend them off.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" she screamed at the top of her lungs, bolting upright out of the little café booth that was so far away from her battle inside.

The wave paused as if to taunt her, to terrorize her a little further. The black hooded figures turned as one to look down at her and she knew they would send her mind to search for the boy again, the black-haired boy with the scar.

She looked up into the hoods where faces should have been to see pain, and hopelessness, and the cold empty blackness. And it was then, only then, that Valeria realized she had fought her best fight, and she had lost. The black wave crashed over, and consumed her in darkness.

# # #

**Late Revelations **

Valeria forced herself to get up and dress for school. She collected her books and started on the short walk so she'd arrive before eight a.m. School and learning were two of the few things she actually enjoyed (although, like most people her age, she would never admit it), but it had been difficult- if not impossible- to keep up her studies with all of the moving from place to place.

Hoping that, miraculously, everything might be all right between herself and her new friends, Valeria began to notice with dismay the whispers from students walking behind her. Next came the giggles; not happy, fun laughter, but mean, vicious snickers. She did her best to ignore them, but it was already setting her nerves on edge. She'd been down this path too many times before.

As she walked, Valeria thought back to the cause of her problems. For as long as she could remember, she'd called the evil beings the '_Muertos_', which meant 'the Dead Ones' in her first language of Spanish. They had never invaded her mind as often when she was very small, but it seemed like they had always been a part of her life.

With a mixture of sadness and anger, Valeria recalled the cruelest side of her 'blackouts', as she called them. After the darkness lightened some, and the evil beings were through with her for the moment, she had to live in and deal with the real world again. Her encounters with her tormentors were always so intense that it was impossible for her to be aware of the other world outside her mind-she never knew what she had said or done to others while she was with the Muertos.

But she had learned, painfully, that by the time she had 'returned', she found anyone nearby to be backing away from her, repulsed or frozen in horror from whatever they had just witnessed. Any progress she had made at being accepted or at making friends was turned upside down every time. Valeria feared the day her emotions would become too weak to cope with being cast out again, and she knew next time_ could_ be the point where she couldn't go on.

What Valeria _did_ remember of the blackouts was the stuff of nightmares. Besides the terrifying way the beings always came to seize her, there were the distorted images and colors, grotesque faces in crowds of frightened people, the feeling that she was always about to be pushed into a bottomless chasm. There was the constant presence of the eerie green skull, a red snake writhing its way through the openings in its face; a vision she sensed meant evil in its purest and most complete form. In full consciousness, she would find herself drawing the skull with the snake, doodling mindlessly until she realized with horror what she had drawn. Curiosity made her wonder if she would ever see what evil the skull represented, and fear made her pray she would not. The only part of the episodes she was never afraid of-the only part she could manage to think about outside the blackouts, was the boy with the scar.

Occasionally, she tried to sort out why the Muertos wanted her to find him. One thing was perfectly clear: the beings had a plan for the boy, or were led by someone who did, and once found, they intended to do him serious harm. That gave her another reason to resist giving in to the evil- not only to save herself, but to keep from leading the black-haired boy to some terrible fate. Obviously, the boy had already endured some hardship in his life to have that disfiguring scar on his forehead, hiding under his unruly hair.

Yet below the surface of her thoughts was another idea: Who could say if the boy was even real? Perhaps he didn't exist, except to her. Besides, she had never successfully fought the Muertos off even to save herself-what made her believe she could do it for someone else? Maybe her mind was simply trying to cover for the fact that she was going crazy.

This last reason was beginning to make more and more sense as time went on, making her feel sad and helpless. The nagging doubt of her own sanity, reinforced by all the others who called her a lunatic, or possessed, or just evil, kept pulling her daily into deeper despair. The darkness it caused forced her ever closer to the evil beings, even when she wasn't completely under their control.

Valeria rounded the corner and approached the school grounds cautiously. She faked a cheerful smile as she walked up to Susana and the group surrounding her.

"Hi!" she chirped, hoping to sound lighthearted. It was the last word she ever said to them.

Susana turned to stare at her. The group that had been standing in a circle unwound to form a line, a solid blockade of bodies. Their eyes were trained on the outsider, surveying her intensely and willing her away. Valeria sensed no fear from this group, just revulsion and disgust. Not one of them moved an inch, but they shoved her from their lives with all of their might.

Valeria was determined they wouldn't see her cry. She backed away at first, trying in vain to stare them down, to make even one set of eyes look away and show some doubt. But the line remained resolute-they were strong together. After all, they had each other.

By the time she turned toward home at the end of the block, her face was wet with silent tears. Other people on the street stared at her as well-they knew, too. Her feet carried her more quickly with each step until she was running, as if she could escape.

Valeria burst through the door to the little bungalow, her chest heaving with suppressed sobs that she could no longer deny. Gasping for air, she forcefully threw her books on the floor, and struck out with her fists at nothing as if she could drive away the pain. The anger and frustration sapped the last bit of strength from her and she sank to her knees, crying out in pain and anguish like an injured animal who had lost its last ray of hope.

# # #

Valeria's grandmother came from the tiny bedroom with her rosary in her hand. Abuelita did not want to expect this, but she did. She knew prayers were not always answered in a time that people could understand; but if solely the strength and dedication of those praying had counted, Valeria would have been freed from her prison years before by her grandmother's devotion alone.

The only person in Valeria's entire life who had ever believed in her was Abuelita. Her grandmother had never doubted the existence of the horrors the girl saw during her blackouts, and was the only one Valeria had ever been able to confide in. Although it saddened her to see these things happen to her beloved granddaughter, Abuelita always blamed the neighbors, the kids, or the other townspeople, for being intolerant. After all, Valeria had never done anything to harm anyone else. It was only fear and ignorance that led people to believe their own cruelty was deserved.

More than Valeria herself, Abuelita knew her granddaughter was a worthy person- giving, kind and loving. Over the last few years, as the blackouts had intensified in their length and darkness, Abuelita realized that fear alone should have made Valeria bitter, vengeful, or rebellious. And yet she was not.

It was as if the old woman knew there was something invasive, something that was not born into Valeria that haunted her now. _That_ was what ate at the young girl's sanity and her soul. Abuelita believed to her core that Valeria was blameless in it all.

Abuelita looked at the crumpled, sobbing mass on the floor that was Valeria. She moved to her quietly and gently took hold of Valeria's wrist, tugging her upward and toward the dilapidated sofa. Valeria's body, so drained of energy, yet still wracked with sobs, did nothing to resist.

The two sat without speaking on the couch for a while, Abuelita holding her granddaughter gingerly and rocking her as if Valeria were still an infant. The old woman waited patiently for the storm to subside. This time Abuelita was determined to tell her.

Valeria finally calmed somewhat and rested her head in her grandmother's lap, staring ahead blankly. Abuelita played with the girl's hair absent-mindedly.

"_Hija_," began Abuelita softly in her native Spanish. "Do not be upset again, but you need to think about what I've told you about your parents. There is a part I have always hoped I would never have to tell you." She paused, watching Valeria's lack of reaction; the girl was still numb. Abuelita took a deep breath, and began...

"You already know part of what happened that day during the Running of the Bulls. You were only two years old, so you and I stayed together inside the hotel room in Pamplona while your parents went out to the balcony to watch. We were playing a game, you and I, and I told you I did not see what happened. But the truth is is I did not want to see it. I never believed it would make a difference now."

Valeria was still lying down, facing away from her grandmother. But the older woman could tell the girl's body was more alert; she was listening more carefully now.

"Through the edge of the curtain I could see across the street. Strange people stood on another balcony there-foreigners who wore long robes of dark colors. A lot of tourists always come to see the Running. But the two men there were not watching; they were arguing with one another over something one of them held. The object was very shiny: it was glinting in the sunlight, and as I watched, it kept changing size and almost floated in the air. I could hear the bulls passing by then, and your parents voices came through the open balcony door, yelling and happy-excited. I looked across again and the bigger man pushed the one with the object down, then he disappeared from the balcony. A moment later, the bigger man came out on the street below, but _he _had the object then, only he acted like he was fighting to hold on to it."

"I told you that a fire started on the balcony where your parents were, that sparks must have blown from the fire across the street. Well, there was no wind that day. Your papa and mama and everyone else were looking far down the street by now after the bulls, so the men probably thought no one was watching. The man above stood up and held out a stick; it must have been a kind of weapon from their country. I saw his mouth move to say something and bright orange light and sparks flowed out the end of the stick at the man below. It startled the bigger man and he let go of the object, which started to float away. But he was more concerned with shooting back. He held out a stick and said something, too. Bright, green flashes of light began shooting all over towards the front of the building, hitting it and charring spots of stucco or starting fires.

Abuelita knew Valeria was listening intently now. The girl quietly put a hand to her face and wiped away some lingering teardrops.

"The crowd never noticed because the run was so loud and they were looking the other way. I saw many bright green flashes, some very nearby, and I realized that the man had been hitting the shiny object with his fire as it hovered in the air. The spinning, glinting object was bouncing the light and sparks off in all directions. Two or three of the light streams hit the balcony where your parents were. Pieces of the support beams broke off and exploded, then the whole balcony fell to the street, with your parents still on it. I turned back inside to find you, but you had slipped away. You neared the opening in the wall where the balcony had been, and I ran to grab you so you would not topple off the edge.

"When I got near, a long green stream of light and sparks bounced from somewhere outside right into your face. I saw the light go into your eyes and you cried out and fell back. When the light had stopped and I could get next to you, nothing on your face looked different. I was so relieved nothing had happened, because I already feared I had lost your parents. I found out later that was true."

Valeria was sitting up now, aghast, staring intently at her grandmother. But Abuelita pushed on, staring straight ahead. She was unable to face her granddaughter for fear she would stop again once she saw the hurt and fear on Valeria's face.

"Later, I noticed something _was_ different-in your eyes. They looked bruised, as if the force of the light had blackened them. But the marks were strange-your eyes did not have dark purplish bruises around them, but green- many shades of green. And from deep in the pupils could be seen a tiny but brilliant green light, as if part of the light from the man's stick had been trapped inside of you. How it could be, I don't know, _mi hija_, but I have come to believe that may be what haunts you now."

Valeria sat motionless, feeling as if she was living proof that lightning did indeed strike twice in the same place. There were no more tears to cry. She had thought of it before, but the courage she needed had evaded her. Abuelita's confession had told her it was time, and she knew what she had to do.


	3. Shadows and Secrets

**~~ Chapter 3 ~~**  
**Shadows and Secrets**

"Yeah! Can you believe it?" Ron shouted. "Some guy from the Ministry had connections-wait! Umpphh! Hahaa!" Ron reached to swipe at the Quaffle as it passed and successfully batted it back towards Fred to defend the goal. Ron grinned as he tried to continue his conversation with Harry in midair, at the same time watching his twin brothers with eagle eyes as they tried to get the Quaffle past him. "Anyway, he owed Dad a favor and Dad got hold of five tickets. The match is on March first. Quite nice of them to do that for my sixteenth birthday! Of course, the bad news is two tickets have to go to Charlie and his girlfriend Lorraine to be the 'chaperones'. They think we'll get into trouble if we go by ourselves."

The Weasley twins, Harry, and Ron were trying to work in some extra Quidditch practice before the game with Ravenclaw at the end of the week, even though the weather was beginning to look especially threatening. The veteran Gryffindor team members were swerving and looping all around the goalposts, doing their best to get Ron into game-day shape as their new Keeper. So far, they were pleased-nothing had gotten past him.

George swooped by, trying to distract Ron while Fred was setting up to try another shot. "Now_ why_would Mum and Dad think you'd get into trouble on your own, I wonder?"

"Probably for the same reason-" Ron dropped quickly to deflect another Quaffle from low and to the right. "Nice try, Fred!" he called, then turned back to George. "Probably for the same reason Charlie and Lorraine are the chaperones and not you two."

"Oh, now that was cold," George replied, circling Ron and Harry and acting offended.

A strong gust of wind hit Ron from the side unexpectedly, rolling him completely over and back up on the used-but-new-to-him Cumulus Crest broomstick ("a less pricey version of the Nimbus 2000 with the same exquisite handling capabilities").

At that very moment, George was driven into a high spiral by the same gust. But being more accustomed to storm flying than his younger brother, he made the best of it and slammed the Quaffle as Fred passed it high, hitting it neatly through the goal.

"Oh, man!" Ron moaned as George raised his fist in victory. "That wasn't fair!"

"Hey!" replied George, laughing. "It certainly was! Thank you, Mother Nature!" He spiraled away towards Fred, who was also making an issue of the celebration.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said comfortingly. "They've had a few more years of flying in miserable weather. After all, we did have Oliver Wood as captain for a long time."

A bolt of lightning hissed through the sky, exploding the top of a nearby tree in the Forbidden Forest and sending sparks flying. The horrendous boom of thunder hit almost immediately after, so loud they could feel the impact in the air around them. Icy raindrops poured down onto them, stinging their faces and soaking them within moments.

"Time to go!" Harry shouted, heading swiftly toward the ground after the twins, with Ron right behind him.

# # #

"The Chudley Cannons!" Ron repeated for the twelfth time. "I can't believe we'll get to see them in person!"

"Yeah-that'll be great." Harry, looking as if it might have been the twentieth time Ron brought it up, was well aware of Ron's love of the Chudley Cannons professional Quidditch team. He had been from the first time he stepped into Ron's blinding orange bedroom, covered with Cannons paraphernalia. Harry adored Quidditch, and he was truly fond of the Cannons as well, but there was such a thing as enough.

The two boys were standing just inside the main castle doors, dripping water and mud all over the floors. Their broomsticks and equipment were leaving little puddles as well, even before they shook them off, and they could see a trail leading off in the direction of the Gryffindor common room where Fred and George had gone before.

Harry shook his Firebolt one more time to dry the bristles and the two heard a cat screech to their left. Mrs. Norris was not pleased at having a shower on such a cold, dark afternoon. Harry and Ron had a sinking feeling that Filch could not be far away.

"We'd better get out of here," Ron whispered, scooping up the practice Quaffle.

"Potter! Weasley!"

Harry and Ron looked at one another, neither having to say out loud, "Too late."

"Look at this mess!" Filch growled. "There'll be visitors to see Professor Dumbledore coming at any minute and look at this! Making this floor so slippery is dangerous for our guests! Isn't that so, Mrs. Norris?"

Harry and Ron were fully aware that Filch was not in the least bit concerned about the danger to the guests, but more upset that he would have to mop the floor again or face the verbal consequences from the faculty.

"Well, we didn't mean to," explained Harry, " and we certainly didn't know there were guests arriving today, in this storm. It wasn't as if we planned it."

"Oh, talking back now, eh? I'll be reporting this to the Headmaster, I will."

"Reporting what to the Headmaster, Mr. Filch?" asked Professor McGonagall, striding across the wide stone foyer. "Haven't the guests arrived yet?" She looked down at the mess under Harry and Ron. "And if they haven't, hadn't you better clean that up before they get here?"

"Ah, Professor McGonagall!" Filch said smugly, looking as if he felt he clearly had the advantage here. "These-students-have no regard for our guests, have made this dangerous mess, and should be taught a lesson. They're in your House, I believe. Perhaps you could take it upon yourself-"

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, explain yourselves, _now_, please. What exactly were you doing out of doors in this weather anyway? Surely you're aware of the dangers of flying during an electrical storm." Professor McGonagall was known for being fair to all of her students, but put up with no nonsense, either.

Filch was trying so hard to keep from grinning at her stern tone toward Harry and Ron, he looked as though he would burst.

"Well, we didn't mean to drip all over, but it started to rain so hard all at once. And we came down from the field just as soon as the storm started," Harry began.

"Yes, and since the game with Ravenclaw is coming up so soon, I wanted to get in as much practice as possible," Ron added, pulling the practice Quaffle into full view.

Professor McGonagall's stony expression softened somewhat. "Quidditch? You were helping Mr. Weasley get extra practice for the Ravenclaw game?" It was also well-known that Minerva McGonagall harbored a certain weakness for Quidditch, especially when the House Cup was at stake.

Harry and Ron began to sense victory and both put on the most innocent, sincere-appearing expressions they could muster, just in case. "Yes, Professor," they said in unison.

"Well, then," the Transfiguration professor conceded, much to Filch's irritation, "You must change out of those wet clothes at once before you get ill. Do try to be more careful next time and bring in less of the storm with you."

"Yes, Professor." Harry and Ron, feeling fortunate that McGonagall happened along when she did, collected themselves and hurried away before someone less agreeable like Snape showed up to complicate things.

As they squished and squeaked their way through the foyer, they could hear Professor McGonagall behind them, instructing Filch. "Hadn't you better get this cleaned up right away, Mr. Filch? It would put Hogwarts in a very bad light indeed, if one of our visitors took a spill as they walked in."

Harry and Ron didn't have to hear the low growl from Filch, or see the sneer on his face to know it was there. They'd had enough experience with him to know they'd better pay close attention to the rules and curfews for the next few weeks-or else.

# # #

Everywhere in Hogwarts Castle was cold, damp, and drafty one rainy day the following week. Everywhere, of course, except Professor Trelawney's tower classroom. Even though the students welcomed the warmth and the crackling fire when they first arrived, the atmosphere in Divination still worked against them. For once their frigid fingers and toes warmed a bit, they became relaxed, too comfortable, and sleepy in the cushy chairs, much more ready for a nap than for an encounter with the future.

Harry and Ron were already quite tired, recovering from the victory celebration that had lasted all the day before. The Quidditch match had been a tough one; the Ravenclaw's expert sixth-year Seeker and captain Cho Chang had trained the team well. The Ravenclaw team had figured into their game plan the usual stunning performance of Harry as the Gryffindor Seeker, but they hadn't counted on being so frustrated by the expertise of a certain red-haired rookie Keeper. The game was won by Gryffindor two hundred ten points to forty.

Needless to say, there was even more reason for Fred and George Weasley to host an over-the-moon victory party since their little brother had made such a strong contribution to the Gryffindor win. Thanks to an excursion on the "Hogsmeade Underground", the butterbeer ran freely, supplies of food were endless, the music was loud and the celebrating hearty. After several complaints to the faculty by the Fat Lady about her wall vibrating and shaking so late at night, and several increasingly surly visits from Professor McGonagall (who'd been celebrating _with_them many hours earlier when the party began), the Gryffindors finally made their way to the dorms way past anyone's usual bedtime.

As they waited for the remainder of the class to file in to their seats, Harry and Ron kept talking quietly as long as possible, fending off the sleepiness that was already upon them.

"Did I tell you they've sent Percy to Ukraine?" Ron asked.

"Ukraine?" Harry replied. "How did you find out? I thought Percy wasn't speaking to anyone in your family at the moment."

"Well, he's not. But Penelope isn't quite as hard-headed. She seems to think it's quite awful that he's not even letting Mum and Dad know what he's up to. So once in a while, Penelope sneaks an owl to us, even though she knows he'd be furious. You know- just thinks it's the right thing to do."

"That's good of her-I know it really bothers your parents. Well, so, whatever would they send him to Ukraine for?" asked Harry. "I'd have thought they'd want to keep anyone in the Ministry as close as possible under the circumstances."

"From what I heard, there was some sort of disturbance there in the atmosphere. Discovered by some Muggle scientists actually. But the Ministry thought it was tied to something magical, felt they needed to investigate and Fudge sent Percy. I think Fudge is probably investigating anything he thinks is nothing so he can prove to everyone that You-Know-Who isn't really back," Ron said with a disapproving tone. It was well-known that the magical world was split into two camps these days: some chose to believe Fudge and bury their heads in the sand about the return of Voldemort, others somewhat secretly followed another group led by Dumbledore. The Weasley family (all except Percy) fell into the latter category.

Ron watched as Harry jabbed at his scar with his fingertips. Harry had told Ron that, of late when he was tired, even the thought of Voldemort would irritate his scar with what he knew was a false signal, but it hurt nonetheless. Ron had made mention of You-Know-Who without thinking and cursed aloud for being so tired he didn't stop himself in time. The look on Harry's face told him he'd inflicted something on his best friend he hadn't meant to. "Sorry. Bad choice of topics.'

"Yeah, I can think of happier topics, but we can't pretend it didn't happen. Like with Cedric. You know he'd want us to deal with it, and then go on. Now-what were you saying about this disturbance?" Harry said, trying not to sound as if he were in pain.

Ron was only a bit relieved by Harry's attitude, but continued with what he'd wanted to say in the first place. "Reckon they don't know what it was, exactly, but had something to do with a robbery some years ago. I remember Dad told us about it once. Headmaster of the wizard school in Spain had an orb of some sort that did something to the atmosphere."

"For what?"

"Dunno. No one seems to know. Just that the orb was stolen, then it disappeared. Never did find who took it, I don't think," Ron said, looking as if he were trying to remember anything more.

The rather frail-looking professor was now in front of the class, her eyes looking huge beyond the spectacle frames as she visually scoured the classroom, staring at anyone who was still talking. This effectively silenced the entire group, including Ron and Harry.

The Divination lesson plan for today was Astrology.

"Could be worse," Ron whispered to Harry, " at least we stand a chance of staying awake."

They pulled out the usual star maps and planet charts and were assigned to make the forecast for their own birth dates for the first three months of the coming year.

Professor Trelawney was wandering about the room, checking everyone's progress, edging her way towards Ron and Harry.

"Oh no, here it comes," Harry whispered under his breath sullenly.

Ron just smiled at his friend in response. Trelawney insisted on predicting Harry's demise and it had become something of a bad joke to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, if not the whole of Gryffindor House. Even so, the two boys were curious as to how Harry was going to die this time.

Sure enough, Trelawney approached their table, looked at the work they had done so far, and gasped.

"Oh, my dear. Oh, no!"

Harry flopped back in his seat, apparently resigned to listen to yet another "gloom and doom" prediction.

Leaning intently over the table, Trelawney meticulously checked the charts they had done. "Look at the planets-how they have aligned themselves. Peace and calm are in opposition, while conflict and death are strongly aligned, and in such a position of domination!"

Ron was struggling to stifle his sniggers, yet could not help but grin over Trelawney's shoulder at Harry.

Trelawney continued. "Oh, no, this does not bode well for you! Once a famous Muggle leader named Julius Caesar was warned to 'Beware the Ides of March!' Not since that time has this alignment taken place. The planets predict the same now, but this time you-your birth date is the subject! Do beware for your life!" The professor swung her face to focus on Ron. "Beware the Ides of March, Mr. Weasley!"

Ron's grin dropped immediately, along with his jaw. "Me? Are you sure? Don't you mean Harry? It's always Harry!"

The other students had continued with their work, only half listening since they, too, had become somewhat calloused to Harry's predicted death. But once they heard Ron's name, work ceased, and all eyes focused on the drama at Ron and Harry's table.

"This is _your _chart, Mr. Weasley. Oh, my poor dear," Professor Trelawney's insect-like eyes did indeed look sympathetic behind her huge glasses. "I wish it weren't true. I truly do. But look! You need only to see the positioning of Jupiter to realize there will be an enormous task set before you, one you may not be able to complete in this life, whether or not you are truly prepared to attempt it. And there is a great sense of darkness about it for some reason, as well; darkness as deep as I've seen since, well, since the- dementors-were here." She shivered slightly at the word.

Ron seemed to be in shock. Having grown up in the wizarding world, it was a bit more difficult for him to dismiss omens as easily as Harry and Hermione pushed them away. And why did she have to bring up the dementors? He'd never had anything like this happen to _him_before. As he said, it was always Harry.

"Professor," Ron began slowly. "What are the Ides of March, anyway?"

"The Ides are certain days within a calendar month, at least according to the ancient Romans-they fall on the fifteenth in the months of March, May, July, and October. In the other eight months the Ides are on the thirteenth." Trelawney was still cross-checking Ron's chart for mistakes.

_That would be just like her,_ Ron thought. _Put someone through the wringer thinking they might die, then check again and say-oops, never mind, my mistake!_

Ron blinked silently at Harry, thinking how odd it was to have their positions so completely reversed. But how many of Trelawney's predictions really did come true? As he thought back, he counted her true predictions record as running somewhere between zero and none, although Harry had seemed to gain a little more faith in them ever since their third year, for some reason.

Harry looked startled himself at this unexpected turnaround, but he also appeared worried that Ron was going to panic. Since Trelawney was so focused on Ron and the charts, he caught Ron's eye behind her back, making circles in the air at the side of his head to remind him that she was, as they all had said, "completely nutters."

His best friend's support made Ron a bit more comfortable. After all, look how dead Harry was supposed to be, and he was still sitting there, making fun, grinning like a madman. Ron decided if Harry could deal with his destiny so well, knowing even the likes of You-Know-Who was in his future, that he, Ron, could learn to live with whatever came, too.

All of the excitement had used up most of their class time. Professor Trelawney had them roll up their charts, then gave them a rather lengthy homework assignment. After the groans had subsided, the students packed up their things and started to file through the trap door and down the silver steps.

While they were waiting in line for their turn, Ron turned to Harry.

"Don't tell Hermione about this yet, okay?" Ron pleaded.

"Why not? You know it's all rubbish," Harry said encouragingly. "Besides, _someone_'s going to tell her. I mean-" Harry looked over at Lavender and Parvati chattering loudly while descending the steps. Ron could hear his name mentioned off and on throughout the conversation.

Ron followed Harry's gaze and thought a moment. "Yeah, I reckon you're right. I just wanted to get a little more used to it myself before I have to face _her _with it. You know how she gets about Divination. And I'm sure it's rubbish, too." But the fact there were now dementors-or talk of them-in the mix, after that weird night last night- it was becoming all too confusing.

Shaking his head to clear it, Ron found the courage to walk the few steps to Professor Trelawney, who was explaining the homework assignment again to Neville. There was one other thing Ron had wanted to ask.

"So, Professor Trelawney, what _did_happen to that Caesar fellow, anyway?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Oh, my dear, you don't know?" the woman replied. "You can check it in any of the Muggle history books. He was murdered during the Ides of March-by his good friend, Brutus."

Ron went white.

# # #

Harry yawned and stretched, looking up from his celestial chart on the table. The common room had all but emptied in the last ten minutes as people finished homework, packed up Exploding Snap! games and chess, and slowly sauntered their way up to their dorm rooms for bed. Even though his homework wasn't quite finished, Harry felt he too was about one minute from falling face first onto the table. He looked across to see if Ron was about done.

Done, he wasn't. In fact, Harry thought, if memory served him correctly, Ron was no farther along than he had been two hours ago. Oh, he was staring at the chart, all right, but Harry could tell that wherever Ron's mind was, it wasn't in the Gryffindor common room.

His red hair tousled into his eyes, Ron's face was frowning and serious, and his mouth was stretched into a thin, grim line. His eyes were fixed and glazed over and Harry could tell that thoughts were flying at light speed through his brain. Though it wasn't making any noise like a pen would have, Ron had been flicking his quill through his fingers, tapping on the table so quickly and for so long, that only the shaft of the feather remained with a few sparse fluffs hanging on for dear life. Ron was breathing quickly and shallowly, and his leg was bouncing just as fast as the quill was tapping. Harry felt you could almost reach out and touch the tension in his friend.

_Ron's never like this, _Harry thought_, all quiet and turned in on himself. His emotions are usually right out there in front of everybody, like it or not. _Harry was a little afraid to interrupt his thoughts, but he knew this couldn't go on all night.

"Ron," he started quietly, afraid to startle him. No response. "Hey Weasley, give that quill a break... Ron!"

Ron looked up and worked to focus on his friend. The quill stopped, but the leg didn't, and the strained look on his face remained as well. "Huh? What?"

"Er-" Harry pointed at the quill.

Ron looked down at his own hand as if it belonged to someone else and seemed to wonder what the quill was doing there at all. "Oh. I was just thinking." He frowned and tossed the quill on the table.

"Yeah, I guess you were."

Suddenly, Ron reached out and pushed away from the table so forcefully, he nearly tipped over both his chair and Harry's ink bottle. Without noticing, he took a few determined steps into the room, then turned back, strode over, and threw himself into the chair again. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but didn't.

"This isn't about the Divination thing, is it?" Harry guessed. "Because if it is, I can tell you-"

"No, it's not about the bloody Divination thing!" Ron burst out. He looked at his friend's startled expression, then tried to calm down a bit. "Well, not all of it." He went silent again.

Harry tried to be patient, but it was getting so late, and he was tired. "Not... all of it?" he asked carefully.

Ron's expression changed and he looked at Harry almost pleadingly. "I don't know...what to do."

Harry could hear the desperation in his friend's voice, something he'd never heard before. As close as the two of them were, ready to die for one another if need be, Ron had never completely let his defenses down. The anger, the clowning around, the loud tough talk all kept people so busy with the Ron outside that he didn't have to let them in and trust them with his insecurities inside. He didn't have to let others, even his close friends, know about all the things he feared he would never be and do.

But Harry knew. He studied Ron's expression. They'd grown so close as friends and been through so much together over the past five years that Harry could almost read his mind. Harry could tell that Ron was working hard on deciding whether to tell him what was eating away at him so badly.

Ron checked around the deserted common room to make sure no one else was there. He took a deep breath, and began. He told Harry about the episodes with Ginny during the Potions exam and in the library with Draco. (He also vividly described all the threats he'd made afterwards toward Draco about leaving his sister alone; that was the only part that made Harry smile.)

"Last night was the third time. And the weirdest. I was so tired from the match and from not sleeping the night before, that I snuck up to the dorm room to lie down for just a bit. All of you were still down at the party. I must have dozed off, or came close, because it started to happen again-and that's when it always happens, when I'm too tired to expect it. The beginning was okay-this time, instead of being scared or afraid, Ginny was just really happy. She found out she did well on her last Potions test and that her marks were improving, and she was dancing and having a great time at the party. I could feel it all downstairs-it was like I was there again. Then I heard a scream-but it wasn't her. It wasn't anyone at the party. I don't know if it was anyone at Hogwarts, because I could only see a tiny little ragged room I never saw before. A voice from somewhere was talking in a language I didn't recognize, but it was scratchy, like o n a Muggle radio or something. Then I found the person screaming was me-or part me-we were screaming, but on the inside. And I felt so bloody awful! I was afraid-and there was darkness all around me- and I couldn't _do_anything about it. Everything was so hopeless."

He suddenly got very quiet. "Harry, there were dementors. I didn't see them, but I felt them, and I knew they were watching me somehow. I-or whoever I was-just didn't know them as dementors. I know it sounds crazy. But the worst part was-the dementors were going to make me, or that other person-this is so confusing-they were going to _make_ us do something- and we hated it, but they were going to make us do it! Then they came closer, it became darker-and that's where it stopped- thank God. I woke up in a sweat. I was so glad the party was still going on downstairs, because I came back down and it sort of brought me back to reality. I don't know if that was supposed to be me or Ginny or someone else. But-oh my God-_if_that's a real person out there somewhere right now-they really need some help!"

Everything was silent for a few minutes except for the crackling of the fire.

"Wow. I had no idea," Harry said, slumped back in his chair after listening intently to his friend for a long thirty minutes.

"I kept thinking it was coincidence," replied Ron. "Maybe it still is. Maybe I'm just going mad."

"Maybe," agreed Harry, ducking a flying cushion from Ron. Harry felt that sharing it with someone had done Ron a world of good, and he was more like himself now. "But coincidence? I believe in that less and less every day. Remember, it was me who kept thinking that big, black dog hanging around all the time was coincidence." Harry smiled a little at the mention of Sirius and all he'd gone through to see and protect his godson.

"So.. what now? Do I do something? Do I ignore it and hope something doesn't pounce on me in the dark somewhere? You know more about this stuff than I do," Ron said.

Harry snorted. "Oh, yeah, I've always been so well prepared for what Voldemort or anyone else has handed me."

Ron shivered at Harry's nonchalance about You-Know-Who. "See? That's what I mean. You _know_what to do-then you just do it. If a dementor came at me one day, or at Ginny, or whoever, I don't want to be known as the Boy Who Just Stood There."

It was funny, but Harry wasn't sure if he should laugh right now. "I know what you're _supposed_ to do about dementors, but I can't even _do _it myself all the time. I usually just pass out, right? Remus Lupin did show me a book about them once. It's in the Restricted Section of the library, but I don't know if just reading a book could help. Lupin himself taught me most of what I know," Harry said, pausing. "Besides, Ron, any time we were facing something together, you did the same thing I do. You do what you think is right, and do the best you can with what you've got. _I _wasn't the one ready to fight Sirius with a broken leg. You? Stand there? No, I don't think so," Harry scoffed.

"You two are up_ this_ late talking about _that _again?"

The voice made both boys jump.

"Hermione! Can you give us some warning-or something?" Ron said irritably.

"Why? _I'm_ doing what I'm _supposed_to be doing. As prefect, I'm supposed to check if I hear voices down here this late and report them. I should have known it'd be you two," she said haughtily, adjusting the collar of her dressing gown.

"And so are you going to report us then, Little Miss Prefect?" Ron asked harshly.

Harry winced at Ron's tone. He knew Ron was worried about just how much she'd heard. Ron wouldn't want _her, _of all people,to know he'd felt afraid, or helpless- he wouldn't want Hermione to know he was uncertain about anything. Harry knew it had already been hard enough for Ron to admit it all to him.

Hermione glared up at Ron, her eyes flashing, but looking a little hurt as well. "I don't know yet. I'm going to bed and both of you should do the same." She stalked away and up the staircase.

"Females!" Ron said. "That goes double for female prefects!" he said loudly toward the girls' dorm staircase.

"Yeah, well. We probably should get some sleep. We might need it in case we have to make a late check-out at the library tomorrow," Harry hinted. "_**If**_you think it might help."

"Who knows? Maybe we'll run into that scaly, hooded chap in the library and just get this thing started. Next time I have to deal with Little Miss Prefect and her rules, just let me at him! Dementor or no, he'll definitely be the loser!" Ron fumed.

Harry hated it when Hermione got Ron this riled up just before bedtime.

Closing his books and dragging his homework off the table, Harry wearily started for the stairs. It was obvious there was some difficulty between Ron and Hermione, ever since that day with the wallabindles. It was even worse than after the Yule Ball last year. He couldn't define how or why the friendship between his companions had changed, but there was a different dimension to it somehow. All he knew for sure was that he hated being in the middle.

# # #

"It's freezing in here tonight," Harry whispered, "I wish I'd brought that extra jumper I left in the room."

Ron peered between the bookshelves at Madam Pince in the far end of the library. "I think she's finally leaving," he said quietly, stifling a yawn. His wish was that he hadn't stayed up so late last night thinking about how irritating Hermione was, and how her eyes flashed all dark and stormy when she was angry, and how her mouth got round and pouty when he called her "Little Miss Prefect", and how her cheeks were flushed from anger at him and the warmth of the fire... Why did all these tiny little details about her keep distracting him so? He never noticed or cared before. _She must be doing this to me somehow,_he thought. It just infuriated him!

Madam Pince grabbed her bag and a large ring of keys, then dimmed the wall candles and the brighter candle on her desk with her wand. She walked briskly to the door, stepped out, and locked them in from the other side.

Ron and Harry waited several minutes to make sure she was gone, then rose from their crouched position behind the Origins and Uses of Magical Herbs section. They had been there for some time, waiting for the library to clear out and for Madam Pince to leave.

"Any longer down there and Neville would have found me a week from now frozen in position and starved to death," Ron said, as he tried to straighten himself up and shake the stiffness from his cramped legs.

"Well, he's the _only_one who would have found you. No one else ever comes back here," Harry said, creating puffs of dust in the air as he slapped at his pants and robe.

"So...where to? Lead on, my good man," Ron said dramatically.

_"Lumos!"_Harry held up his wand for light and set off at once.

As the two stepped gingerly over the rope that separated the Restricted Section from the rest of the library, the familiar whisperings from the books began. Harry and Ron whispered about when they came here as first-years, new to Hogwarts. It was startling then to have the hissing and gossiping going on all around you, where you could never exactly make out what the books were saying, but it was clear they did not approve of you being there. Now it was just old business, and the two friends went on about theirs.

So far the excursion to the library was going well - it was not necessarily a daunting task, unless you were returning after curfew, through the castle, while all the castle ghosts were about, and only a week after you'd really ticked off Filch; not to mention a certain prefect was already suspicious that something was going to take place, and she was more than a little upset she wasn't being included.

Harry had stopped and was visually searching the shelf. He pulled the book down and Ron looked closely at the thick, dusty, green volume Harry had handed him.

"_D is Not Just for Dark Arts: Directions for Dealing with Dementors to Deatheaters_by Sylvestian Stelthwurter. Looks like this is one we should keep handy all the time, anyway. Especially you," Ron commented.

"Except for the fact that one day we're going to forget to renew the charm that's keeping that thing from screaming. So we'll find the entire faculty in our room with expulsion papers in their hands, and that will be that," Harry mused.

"Okay, then. I guess our only choice is to learn what we need as fast as possible and then get this back. But from what you say, it's really easy stuff, right?" Ron said sarcastically.

"Oh, just you wait and see," Harry replied, just as sarcastically.

"So... on to getting back. You've brought the cloak, right?" Ron asked.

"Check."

"Good. Wouldn't do to get caught by Filch after- you know. And the Map?"

"Check."

"And I've got the book. So we're-"

_BANG! Flop, flop, flop, flop..._

Their eyes widened as they stared at each other. The noise had come from the main study room.  
_  
"Nox!" _Harry whispered urgently to turn off the light from his wand. Both boys instinctively moved to the far side of a bookcase, away from where anyone or any_thing_could see them from the door. It occurred to them without saying it that there was only one door out of the Restricted Section and one way out of the Library-to do it they'd have to go by whatever was out there. Both peered into the blackness for any sign of who or what it could be.

"Get the map!" Ron whispered. "See if it's there!"

"It won't do any good! If I use the light to see the map, whatever it is out there can see us," Harry replied.

_BANG! BANG! BANG! Flop, flop, flop, flop..._

Standing still and silently, it was easier for Ron and Harry to tell what the noise might have been, but not what was causing it. It sounded as if someone was knocking books to the floor, allowing those on the shelf to fall over and make the flopping sound. They heard a chair screech along the floor as it slid, and a loud thump on a wooden table.

_Bang! Flop, flop...BANG! Flop, flop..._

Unless something was just angry and knocking things about, or was knocking things over as it went by, it sounded almost as if bouncing books was the point of the game. Suddenly, Harry and Ron could barely make out something that relieved them far more than they ever thought possible. A strong, yet screechy little voice was sing-songing:

_"They think that Peeves is not that smart!  
So just take this, oh book of art! (BANG! Flop, flop, flop...)  
But smart I am in many ways  
I'll outsmart Filch on any day! (BANG! BANG! Flop, flop, flop...)  
Astronomy and worlds afar,  
I'll make the beasties __**all**__ see stars! (BANGG! BANGG! BANGG! Flop, flop...)  
Study, study every day?  
Oh no, no, no, I'd rather play!" (BANG! BANG!-  
_  
Click-click...creeeaaak!

Harry and Ron squinted into the darkness and suddenly saw a shaft of light shoot into the room. Right behind that through the library door came a lantern, an arm, and then a far-too-familiar face.

"Oh, no! Now _we_may wish we were dead," Ron said quietly.

"At least we have the cloak," Harry reassured, pulling it from under his robes and swinging it over the two of them.

"PEEVES!" yelled Filch, his voice echoing between the walls. "You'll stop if you know what's good for you! Oooh, if you weren't already dead-" he growled, visually scanning any open spaces from top to bottom.

As Harry and Ron watched from the other room, Peeves came somersaulting through mid-air right at Filch from over the top of a bookshelf. Filch was focused in another direction, and, turning just as Peeves went whooshing by his face, he jumped and sent the lantern toppling. Even through his surprise, Filch had the presence of mind to grab at and upright the lantern before it started a fire, but in his haste, he kicked the bookshelf behind him. Several books from the top plummeted downward, cushioned in their fall by the top of Filch's head.

"Umphh!" _(BANG!) _"Umphh!" _(BANG!)_ "Umphh!" _(BANG! Flop, flop, flop...)  
_  
"Think you're supposed to try and _read_the books, not just put them straight into your head, Filchie-ilchie." Peeves was very entertained by his own joke and cackled merrily, twirling about as Filch collected himself.

"I'll have your head, I will, Peeves! If I have to take up with the Bloody Baron, I'LL HAVE YOU!" Filch was on his feet now, ready to pounce, face reddened, tensed for battle.

But Peeves was only just beginning-the chase was often the best part. Calling several foul words towards his nemesis, he rolled once more and flew- directly for the Restricted Section!

"Oh, no!" muttered Harry. "Duck, Ron!"

Peeves stopped momentarily, directly above where they were crouched on the floor under the invisibility cloak. From past experience, they knew he couldn't see them, but he could sense them. They knew if Peeves uttered one word, it would be _their_heads Filch would have, not the ghost's. He hung there for a long moment, but Filch's heavy footsteps distracted the poltergeist. He hurried for a small opening in the corner between the stones and disappear.

Relief came, but fleetingly, because it occurred to Harry and Ron that Filch was unaware Peeves was gone, would be here in seconds, and would likely be on top of them if they didn't move.

Harry and Ron scrambled from the floor together, Ron taking care to stoop a bit since at full height he pulled the cloak up to their knees. They turned just in time to see Filch hurtling at them full speed and the boys ran further back into the section. Walking under the cloak was one thing-running under it silently in close quarters with more than one person was nigh to impossible.

Filch heard what he thought was Peeves at the back corner, so he followed the strange scuffling noise. Harry and Ron skirted the outside aisle of the Restricted Section only a few steps ahead of Filch all the way.

But as Filch rounded the last corner with his lantern, he didn't find Peeves bobbing in air, but two sets of legs, from the knees down, running away through the main study room and out the library door.

"Hey! You there! Stop! Stop or you'll wish you had!" Filch shouted, giving chase to the running shoes. He charged into the corridor, which appeared empty, and used the lantern light to look at his choice of the three ways the legs must have gone. He picked one and ran off.

Harry and Ron, trying to hold their breath so that Filch could not hear their panting, finally let it go. They were pressed against the wall (Ron crouched again this time) between the library door and the Charmless Carrels.

"Come on, let's get out of here before he comes back," Ron suggested, still trying to catch his breath.

"Yeah, good idea," Harry agreed, and they set off in the opposite direction from where Filch had gone.

The two friends had gone but a little way when they heard quiet tapping coming at them from the corridor they had just chosen.

"Now didn't he go _that _way?" Ron asked, exasperated, and shaking a thumb in the opposite direction.

"Yeah, but Filch knows this castle better than almost anyone. Maybe he took a short cut to double back around," Harry said. "Unless it's Peeves again."

Ron and Harry knew neither was a good choice to meet in the halls after their recent encounter, especially with Filch in such a foul mood. They both began to look around for alternatives.

Finally, Ron noticed the Carrels still directly behind them.

"Come on, let's try one of these," Ron suggested. "If what Fred and George said was right..." Ron started to count Carrels from the library door. At the seventh Carrel, he reached for the knob, pushed it in, jiggled it to one side twice, then the other once, and pulled it out hard. The door swung open.

The soft tapping down the hall was getting very close now, and they could hear some noises coming from the direction Filch had gone.

"Nice job," Harry complimented Ron as the two threw themselves inside and pulled the door shut behind them.

The Charmless Carrels were sort of large closets, each with its own door and tiny window, made for students to study alone if they wished (or if a professor insisted). Inside was a simple flat built-in bench, and a desktop that could be pulled down from the wall. They had been designed and charmed as magic-free zones so that first- and second- year students could practice the language of a new spell and get it correct before actually trying it on something real. The faculty found that this eliminated a great number of mistakes and problems caused by mispronounced charms, chants, and spells. Neville knew the Carrels well.

"I know Fred and George didn't learn how to break into this place to get more studying done," Harry said quietly to Ron, pulling the invisibility cloak off of them and tossing it on the small bench.

"Not exactly. Lots of the older students know about the broken lock. It's just that what they study in here isn't on the Required Classes List. Won't find it on the O.W.L.'s, either," Ron said, sniggering.

"Oh. Should have known," Harry said, blushing in the dark. He reached inside his robes for the Marauder's Map, then appeared to have a thought. "Hope this works in here. These things are supposed to be magic-free, right?"

"Uh-oh. Didn't think of that," Ron replied. "With any luck, the Magic-Free Charm on this one is as broken as the lock."

Both of them tried to focus on the Map in the murky darkness and wondered if they would be able to see it, if it did work. Harry softly uttered the words to bring the map to life. _"I solemnly swear I am up to no good." _The lines and letters they could usually see drawing themselves across the parchment might have been there, but there was no way to tell. "It's too dark!" he added in a frustrated tone.

Harry rolled the map to put it back in his robes, but before he finished, he noticed a strange glow about his hands. He pulled the map back out again. Much to Ron's surprise, they could indeed see all the usual letters and lines, dots and names that normally appeared on the map, because-they were glowing!

"Wicked! Okay, so who's where?" Ron peered at five tiny glowing dots nearest the library drawing on the map.

Harry was trying to decipher the tiny letters under each dot. "Here we are, crunched together right here. There's Filch-that _was_him coming back from the direction we saw him go. Peeves is over by the teacher's offices now- fooled Filch again," Harry chuckled.

Ron snickered, too. Peeves was not a favorite of his, but anything that could irritate Filch so much couldn't be all bad.

"So that means this is-who?" Harry continued. The name was longer than some and difficult to make out under the dot that had been, and still was, coming toward them from down the hall. Harry shook his head. "No-don't tell me."

"Who? Who?" Ron asked urgently, squinting to read the name himself. He leaned back. "No. She didn't."

"Yeah, I guess she did," sighed Harry. There, under the tiny glowing dot moving toward them were the two words "Hermione Granger".

"What was she thinking? She doesn't even have the invisibility cloak!" Ron complained.

"Er,... Ron? Look at the map-that's not the worst of her problems. She'll be running into Filch at that corner in about...a minute maybe?"

"Hermione! You're going to be in detention forever! And as a prefect, too!" Ron scolded as if she were there. Then his tone of voice changed. "Oh, well, I guess that's what she deserves-coming to spy on us."

As soon as he spoke, Harry's tone told Ron his friend was getting fed up. "_Spy_ on us? You know, I don't know what your problem is with her. As far as I can tell, she hasn't changed a bit. But you have. We've always done practically everything together. Now, all of a sudden, you _say_ you don't want her around at all, but then you _act _like you want her around all the time, even if it's just to argue with."

Ron began to voice his disagreement, but found he couldn't honestly deny any of that last part. Thinking about it, Ron decided it really _was_ easier not to have Hermione around, even if he did miss her friendship. Then he didn't have to deal with his own feelings, which were becoming more overpowering all the time. The flip side was true as well-when she was there, he _did_want her to stay -and as close to him as possible.

Red hair reflecting from the very faint light of the tiny high window, Ron put his face to it and looked up the corridor. He checked the other way, then immediately flung open the Carrel door.

"Ron, what are you doing? Filch is coming!" Harry hissed.

But Ron was on a mission. He dove out the door behind a smaller figure with bushy hair that had just tiptoed past them in the darkened hallway. Ron ran up behind her, clapped one hand over her mouth to keep her screams from being heard, and grabbed her around the waist with the other arm, lifting her clean off the floor. He tried to pull her back into the carrel, but he wasn't expecting her reaction.

Trying to pick up and move Hermione when she didn't know what had grabbed her in the dark was no small feat. Ron himself had never wrestled a young dragon, but his brother Charlie had, and from those accounts, aside from the fire-breathing,_ this_ is what it was like. _And with Hermione, the fire-breathing could come next, _Ron thought.

Hermione started flailing about ruthlessly, kicking whatever held her in the shins, pounding at it with her fists, wrenching her head from side to side, screaming into its hand, even trying to bite, if necessary.

"It's me, it's me-Ron!," he whispered in her ear as he tried to keep her airborne, knowing he had only seconds to save them both from getting caught. But she kept up the fight- either she didn't hear, or she was getting back at Ron for all he'd said to her lately. Luckily, Ron's height and strength won out, and he just managed to drag her back through the door of the Carrel. Harry yanked the door shut immediately behind them and in the small space, all three fell into a pile on the bench.

"Hermione, it's _**us **_!" Harry whispered urgently, trying to untangle himself from the other two and sit up. Hermione stopped struggling a bit at the sound of Harry's voice and sat more calmly where she'd been pulled in on top of Ron, still breathing hard and trying to figure out what had just happened.

"Yeah- and be quiet! Filch is coming!" Ron added. He'd left the hand over her mouth in place since she was still trying to talk. Lips next to her ear, he breathed, "I'll take my hand away if you stop being so loud." She nodded irritably and tried to wriggle off his lap as best she could, but there was nowhere to go except on top of Harry.

"Stop squirming! He can hear us moving, too!" Ron complained.

"Fine, then! This wasn't my grand idea! If your legs go to sleep, live with it!" Hermione shot back, staying put, but obviously _not_feeling like the rescued damsel in distress.

"Both of you-**not now**!" Harry was furiously trying to reach something beneath him, but in the cramped space partially occupied by his friends, it was impossible. "Cloak's pinned somewhere underneath us-can't use it this time," he mumbled. Finally, all became silent.

It was none too soon. From their low position in the little room, they could suddenly see a brighter shaft of light from the corridor, moving in rhythm, as if someone were walking with it. There was no doubt which someone it was.

Filch must have seen or heard something of Hermione's rescue, because the light had stopped its swinging motion nearby, yet wasn't leaving. Not daring to move, they sat slumped in the dark silence, watching the light flickering ever brighter through the tiny window against the wall, and listening.

Hermione swung her head in Harry's direction and gasped. "Harry! The light! I can see you!" she whispered.

All three looked down at themselves. "Against the walls! It's dark enough there!" was all Harry could think of. Filch would be there any second.

Scrambling up as quickly and quietly as they could against the side walls of the tiny cubicle, Harry took one side, Ron the other. There was no side left for Hermione, but she was the smallest, and tried to flatten herself as best she could into the larger corner between Ron and the door.

With a sinking feeling in their stomachs, it occurred to the three friends that Filch was now checking the carrels, jiggling the doorknobs of each one in turn. Did he know the secret of the broken lock on Carrel Number Seven? As he tried each one, the light became a bit brighter, the sounds louder.

Hermione was directly in front of the doorknob for Number Seven, her robes pushed against it. If Filch could feel any resistance, if the sound were any different, he might know they were there even if he couldn't get it to open. But it was too late to move much, he would easily hear her.

He was coming nearer. Carrel Four...Five...

With Filch at Number Six, Hermione must have realized her own predicament, because she made a little gasp, leaned as far as she could from the door against Ron, then held her breath.

Four loud footsteps and then... only six inches and a door separated Filch and Hermione. His face appeared at the window, looking much like a goblin in the sharp stabbing shadows of the lantern light. The jiggling doorknob was not an inch away from her body.

Without moving, Ron tried to peer down sideways into Hermione's face. She looked as if she wanted to scream with the tension, but knew she had to stay still and quiet. In the eerie reflected light, he watched as she closed her eyes and bit her lip. Accidentally bumping her hand with his own in the cramped space, Ron was surprised to feel her grab his fingers, hanging on for dear life. She must have been hoping he could help give her the strength to be still.

Ron knew Hermione was not afraid of Filch himself, but was terrified of getting them all caught. He knew he dared not move, but still fought an urge from somewhere to fold his arms around her and tell her it would be okay. _Must be a big brother sort of thing,_he told himself, knowing at the same time it was a complete lie. But under the circumstances, the best he could do for Hermione was curl his fingers around her small hands in his, and try to help her hold on.

Though it seemed like forever that he worked to get in, Filch did not know the right combination of pushes, pulls, and right-left tugs. He shook the doorknob violently one last time, and then moved on down the row. After Number Nine, all three knew it might be safe to breathe, yet no more than that. The light was dimming again as he moved farther away, but they knew the remainder of the search could take a while-the caretaker would leave no stone unturned.

Trying to wait patiently, Ron was vaguely aware that Harry was still there, but he, for one, was having trouble thinking about anyone or anything but Hermione. He could feel her breathing more evenly now against his arm. Before, Ron had noticed she was still tensed and trembling from their struggle, her muscles slow to realize her "kidnapper" was friend not foe. She still clung to his fingers, but her body finally relaxed against him a bit. Her warmth erased the chill that had set into him on the library floor, leaving a strange and wonderful tingling sensation in its place. He noticed his stomach felt at once pleasantly full yet achingly hungry. And he tried, but failed, to convince himself his heart was only pounding from the exertion of the struggle and the tension of Filch's search.

Ron barely noticed he had started to shake a bit.

*_You can calm down a little now_,* Hermione told herself. *_Now Filch is gone it'll be okay.*_

I wouldn't be so sure about that yet,

Ron thought absently.

*Thank goodness Ron and Harry found me first! *

Hermione thought, relieved.  
_  
I feel relieved, too, somehow... Ron and Harry found-? Oh no! I can't do this! __**Not with Hermione**__!_ Ron thought to himself, terrified of what could happen.  
_  
* I knew they went to the Library! I wonder why? I wonder why they always leave me out now. Well, Harry's as nice as always. But Ron's so different now. I miss him-I miss the way we used to be.*_

_You shouldn't have to feel like this, Hermione! I didn't mean for it to hurt so badly!_

*_Even if nothing else ever happened with Ron, I'd just take it back the way it was before.*_

What "else" would happen? Could she mean...?

*_But I'm just being stupid. The way Ron's felt about me lately, he would have just left me out there to get caught. Harry must have told him to go get me. Yes, that's it.*_

No!-No, that wasn't it at all!

_**I **__went to get you!__** I **__didn't want you to get caught! Harry didn't tell me anything!_

*_Ever since I realized I really like Ron it's just messed things up! I don't know if I can just stop liking him that way. Maybe I'll have to try, just to save our friendship.* _

_No, Hermione!- Don't try anything! Leave it alone! It's perfect! _*_CAN'T YOU FEEL THAT I LIKE YOU, TOO?*  
_  
Hermione flinched at that instant, startled, and released Ron's hand. 

Ron sensed it, too. _**How**__ did that happen? _he wondered, a bit edgy about the whole thing._ I've felt the others' feelings in the 'dreams' before, but I've __**never **__been able to answer them!_ _And this time I'm certain it wasn't a dream; I haven't been asleep, and she's standing right there._ _It's as if she was talking to herself, just not with a voice-but I could hear it all._

Ron took a chance and glanced down sideways at Hermione quickly. She was looking at the floor, thank goodness. He swallowed hard. If he could have moaned out loud without alerting Filch, he would have. To find out he could communicate like this with someone was amazing-but then to communicate _that-_ to _that someone_- it was just too much for one evening when he was on the verge of detention already.

_Oh, __**why**__ did I have to think that to her? Maybe it's a good thing Filch __**is**__out there-otherwise, she'd probably be laughing at me, or yelling, or maybe even belching something worse than slugs. But maybe it's just coincidence-maybe she didn't get the message. Maybe..._

Ron thought he could feel Hermione looking up at him now. He glanced down quickly again, but this time her eyes met his; he immediately snapped his gaze toward the ceiling. _Yep. I think she got the message, all right. She's not stupid, you know, Weasley. That's one of the things you like about her, remember?-Like? Ooh-stop thinking that way-it's what started this mess! ...But...just for argument's sake, suppose I __**did**__ like her- __**that **__way? I wonder what she's thinking if she __**does**__ think I like her? After all, she had some pretty interesting feelings in there about me, if I was reading them right... _

Still refusing to look at her from sheer embarrassment, Ron could tell Hermione was concentrating intently about something, even though his connection with her feelings was gone._ Probably coming up with some theory about what just happened, _Ron thought.

And he was right. She _was_coming up with a theory about what just happened- and was about to test it on him.

Hermione moved ever so slightly and leaned her head against his shoulder, and at the same time gently, but purposely grasped his fingers with hers once more.

Ron smiled to himself in the darkness-half in relief, half in elation- and was thankful for the cover the dark gave his red, burning face. Hermione's warmth against him and the return of those butterflies in his stomach suddenly made Ron feel very bold. This was almost like fighting-almost-and he knew what to do when they were fighting. She'd challenged him, and he refused to back down. He could do this. He opened his palm, and pushed his fingers back through hers, intertwining their hands together and holding tight.

Now it was Hermione's turn to smile, even though no one would ever see.

Some minutes later, a familiar whisper from the opposite wall broke the spell and the silence. "I think Filch is finally gone. Aren't you two tired of just standing here?"


	4. You Can Run

**~ Chapter 4 ~ **  
**You Can Run... **

She inspected her own handwriting critically. Valeria had always hated the way her words scrawled across the page, no matter how carefully she formed the letters. But probably this time, she mused, the lettering would matter much less than the message.

Valeria then grimaced at the image still visible on the back of her hand, despite all of the scrubbing she'd done to remove it. She stood and walked to the kitchen sink. Using a stiff cleaning brush this time, she was determined to get it off even if it removed the top layer of skin. That revolting image was always drawn somewhere during a blackout-apparently this time she'd drawn it on herself.

The teenager glanced outside the window to see a tinge of pink brightening the clouds above the still-darkened hillside. It would be daybreak soon. It was time.

Suddenly the crisp edges of objects she looked at in the tiny room became blurry. She checked herself to feel if this could be yet another approaching blackout, then just as quickly realized it was something natural and normal for a change. Her eyes brimming, a tear escaped and made its way swiftly down her cheek, splashing onto the ink-covered page and smearing it a bit.

Valeria had no idea how she would ever survive without her grandmother. Since her parents' death, her grandmother had been literally everything to her. In some ways, it felt incredibly cruel to do this to Abuelita- to leave her here alone. But it also seemed cruel to subject her to the relentless taunts and ridicule time after time, as well as the endless moving from place to place.

Abuelita seemed more comfortable here than in many places they had lived before. She had told Valeria it was much like the town where she'd spent her childhood. And for whatever reason, most of the villagers had not yet connected the stories of the "girl who saw demons" with the sweet, quiet, smiling little grandmother. Valeria thought Abuelita truly deserved some peace and calm in her life, for whatever time remained.

_Not that I really have a choice anyway, _thought Valeria_. The Muertos have told me I'll be going. If I say no, they'll force me. They're much more demanding now, coming more often, squeezing more information into my mind. They've told me I have tasks to complete. I have to find that boy for them, whatever the cost. But perhaps I can do what they want and be done. Maybe there could be an end to this. I can still hope it doesn't have to mean the end of me, too._

She re-read the note she'd written to leave on the kitchen table. She wanted it to sound to her grandmother as if she were setting off on a grand adventure. Abuelita would like that, and almost understand it.

Valeria turned out the light, slipped into her old jacket, and slung the backpack with all her belongings over her shoulder. She stepped softly to the bedroom door and was thankful to hear her grandmother's even breathing in sleep.

Vision still blurred with tears, she pushed the door open a few inches. Valeria kissed her own fingertips and held them out toward the older woman, the one person in the world who had loved her, and taught her how to love. She could only hope that Abuelita could feel in her heart how much love Valeria willed to flow to her from those fingers, and know it forever in case they never saw one another again.

Before her sniffling gave her away, Valeria pushed herself through the front door and kicked a baseball bat from the front step. (_Neighborhood kids again_, she thought grumpily). The sky was getting brighter now, the marina was a brisk ten-minute walk away, and she wanted no one to see her go. Captain Flaherty had told her they would be sailing at sunrise.

# # #

Abuelita had cried a lot already that day. Yet nothing prepared her for what she read in the town newspaper the first night without Valeria:

**Crewman Hospitalized After Attack**

_A crew member of the Irish fishing vessel, _Brigance_, had to be rushed to the hospital after being savagely attacked by an unidentified assailant two days ago. Ship's cook, Sean McKinney, was hit from behind by a blunt object, probably a baseball bat, while leaving a local bar. McKinney did not see the face of his attacker, but states that he saw an unusual tattoo on his assailant's hand of a green skull with a red snake coming out of its mouth, prior to losing consciousness. McKinney, who is currently recovering from the concussion received in the attack, states that no money or personal possessions were taken. The authorities have not yet discovered a motive for the attack, but they have ruled out robbery after interviewing Mr. McKinney. Anyone with information that could assist in the investigation are encouraged to contact local police._

Abuelita did have information as to who the person could be. She had seen that horrible skull and snake thousands of times. But she would not be notifying the authorities.

"The evil has begun in earnest," she mumbled. "May it run its course before my granddaughter is dead. Please bring my Valeria back to me alive and well," she begged. She drew her rosary from her pocket, wiped more of the flooding tears from her face with her other hand, and began to pray as sincerely as she knew how.

# # #

"Well, I guess _some_luck was with us after poor old Sean's misfortune," Captain Flaherty told Valeria as she set his supper in front of him. "Bless his soul, I'm glad he was a hard-headed old cuss. Yeh'd have to hit Sean pretty hard to really hurt him." Flaherty grabbed his bread and tore off a large bite with his teeth. "So, Cruz, this your first time aboard ship, eh? Guess you've found that cookin's cookin', whether by land or sea. Once yeh got yer sea legs, it's all the same."

"Yes, sir," Valeria mumbled shyly.

"We're lucky yeh needed passage to Ireland. You keep up cookin' like this fer us and we'll get yeh to Ireland safe and sound. She's a beautiful place." Flaherty expected a great deal of his crew, including Valeria, but he was a kindly person. She would have liked to allow herself the luxury of getting to know him, if she'd dared.

"I'll do my best, sir," Valeria agreed obligingly, trying to act and sound as mature as possible.

Aside from the constant pungent odor of fish everywhere aboard the small vessel, it really hadn't been that bad. Since it was in the middle of the season, the crew was kept busy constantly until they dropped of exhaustion, and they had very little time to waste bothering her. Her duties in the galley kept her there most of the time, but she would occasionally sneak topside to enjoy the cool breeze blowing in her face. Once in awhile she could almost convince herself that she really was a normal young person, setting out on the great adventure she'd written to her grandmother about, happy, and optimistic for the future  
- and free.

The blackouts were coming almost daily now. Valeria could never completely anticipate when they would happen, but the warning signs had become stronger and she could usually get to her makeshift bunk under the pantry before becoming truly lost to the Muertos. Even though the hopelessness, and sadness, and darkness still came in waves, pounding over her relentlessly, the fear was lessening somewhat from sheer familiarity. Valeria was afraid of what they might ask her to do, but she had come to believe they were not intending to hurt her outright. She had come to dully tolerate their presence, and the Muertos had finally convinced her it was futile to resist on her own.

Outside of the blackouts she wondered what had possessed her to go to the marina that day, looking for work. For some reason, she needed to get to Ireland, even though she'd never been there before. Valeria had never been to the docks before either, but they were strangely familiar and it was easy to get around. Something in her mind told her to go to the _Brigance_, and as she walked, she wondered whether it was the Muertos or her own mind who placed the idea there. But when Captain Flaherty said their ship quickly needed a replacement cook, she felt it was just meant to be. Even though she had to lie about her age (nineteen) and how many cooking jobs she'd had (three), Flaherty wanted simple, nourishing food for his small crew, and she knew she could manage that after cooking for Abuelita and herself over the past few years.

The evening meal now over and cleaned up, Valeria finished cutting the oranges to keep for morning. There had been no blackout yet today, strangely, and though she didn't look forward to one in the night (they seemed even more bizarre and frightening then), it was only sensible to make sure her chores for morning were done in case she didn't sleep well. This was the only way she could cover for herself in this job-she worked ahead as much as possible so that if she had to miss an hour or two locked in the pantry, no one would be the wiser.

"Some fresh air before bed, and maybe the beings will let me sleep," Valeria said quietly to herself, climbing the ladder to the deck. A few crewmen were there, cleaning, repairing the nets, preparing bait for the next long day of fishing. The deck was never completely empty, but there seemed more space than usual, since in the daytime, it was more or less covered with working bodies, nets, and fish.

Valeria looked up at the sparkling sky and took a deep breath of the salty air. Shuddering under her feet a bit, the boat cut into a swell, and the girl made a small squeal when cold spray blew into her face. When the surprise of it wore off, she noticed how exhilarated it made her feel, and how alive.

Hearing a noise behind her, she turned to see two of the younger crew members watching her from a short distance. They smiled at the pretty raven-haired girl, and kept watching as she gave a small smile back and turned away, blushing.

Glancing toward a noise from the bridge ladder, the men suddenly turned back to their tasks, working much faster and harder than they had been before.

Captain Flaherty had now reached the floor of the deck, and, seeing his new ship's cook at the rail, walked over to join her.

"Ah, 'tis a fine night at sea tonight, it is. Reckon yeh never saw so many stars from land, now, did yeh?" Flaherty asked her.

"No, I guess I haven't," Valeria answered. She wasn't very good at idle conversation, since she'd never had a lot of practice with anyone but her grandmother. She was thankful, though, that she'd learned English from school and the radio, even though there were times when a word would still escape her.

"So you're on yer way to Ireland. Goin' back to yer sweetie, eh?" Flaherty teased warmly.

"No," Valeria said shyly, ignoring the last comment. "I've never been there."

"Never been to Ireland? Ah, yeh don't know what yer missin'. Well, yeh'll know soon. Me and Kathleen, we wouldn' raise our little brats anywhere else, and they wouldn' have it, either," the captain explained, pausing. " But 'tis hard to be away from yer family."

"I know," Valeria responded.

Captain Flaherty looked at her and could tell she meant it. But if she didn't want to say more, he wasn't going to push her.

"Yep. 'Tis hard. But yer a hard worker. And yeh seem like a good girl. Yeh'll do fine by yerself until yeh find a young man to help yeh along."

Valeria wondered at what Flaherty said. It had been since she was just a child that anyone had paid her a compliment except her grandmother. The working part came easily to her. But what made him believe she was a "good girl"? No one had ever seen that in her before.

"Well, I guess the time will come," Valeria said, trying to keep up the conversation as best she could.

Suddenly Flaherty smiled, his foot on the railing, staring into the distance. "I'll be watchin' fer my Kathleen, that's fer sure. And I know she'll be there to greet me when I get in. Long days at sea, away from home, it's hard not to stray. But yeh learn to work at it. If you're a good person, you push the bad thoughts away, because yeh know, yeh just know in yer heart, that the good things are so worth havin', they're a hundred times better than any one bad thing yeh'd want to do. And it's not just about that, either -it's about everythin' in yer life. It makes yeh stronger. Pretty soon, yeh get so good at pushin' away the bad, it's just no work at all," Flaherty observed, obviously lost in his own thoughts.

Valeria stood quietly and stared out over the ocean as well, thinking about all the older man had said. It seemed as if he were trying to talk directly to her own feelings, but there was no way he could have known, was there? Suddenly, Valeria began to feel sad and a little depressed. The dizziness-was it from the movement of the ship, or was it...?

She couldn't afford to stay any longer and find out.

"It was nice talking to you. I have to go. Good night," Valeria said quickly, walking determinedly toward the ladder to the little galley.

Her voice startled the captain out of his thoughts. Suddenly realizing he had been ignoring her for a short time, he called out behind her, "Have a good sleep, lass! Dream sweet dreams!"

Valeria rushed to the pantry as the dizziness began to overwhelm her. The Muertos were coming. She closed the doors behind her, and pulled the small bolt to lock it. Grabbing the folded blanket from under the mattress on the floor, she huddled herself beneath it and clutched the thin pillow to her face, whimpering into it. Tears came as she tried desperately not to cry out. She couldn't afford to alarm anyone on the ship.

The now-familiar waves of darkness and despair washed over her. The dark beings came to get her as usual. Ordinarily she was just floating in nothingness as they filled her brain at will, coming or going from out of nowhere. Now, she had the sensation of being whisked along a corridor or path. It was cold and desolate, and she was being pulled and pushed by the Muertos at the same time.

The green skull, the red snake hissing and writhing obscenely, was present as always, but this time it came into sharper focus. It was larger in her mind, more powerful, more foreboding, more evil. They stopped at a place- a bizarre, foggy, awful place. From the blackness a searing, hot, neon green beam of light blasted toward her and she squinted into its brightness. It was going to burn her, scorch her face, she knew it. She held up her hand to block it, and could feel the heat start to blister her open palm. The light brought with it a horrible noise, like a million souls begging and screaming. She screamed with them into the light for what must have been a very long time.

Then, suddenly, the heat and noise passed. It seemed to shoot right by her and she wanted to turn to see where it had gone. But something riveted her attention forward. Something that felt so evil it awed her. She tried to scream again, but was so terrified at the depth of evil she felt, the sound was ripped from her throat.

Valeria felt weak, shaky, and empty, as if she hadn't eaten in days, but the Muertos held her upright. A fresh plume of fog burst from all around her, fashioning itself into a large screen in front of her. Blind spots swimming before her eyes from the brilliance of the light, she struggled to make out a growing patch of dark near the bottom of the fog-screen. She wanted to back away, but felt compelled to watch, as if seeing a horrible accident in progress. The spot grew and began to shape itself into an upright form. She could tell it was human, though the image was distorted and wavering, just like she'd seen the rising heat in the Spanish deserts distort mountains in the distance. Yet how could it be-how could just a man feel so evil?

Cold, consuming tendrils of air reached her and wrapped about her, making her feel as if what life she had left would soon be gone. She assumed the thing was coming to take what little life remained, but then it stopped moving closer.

"And so we begin..." an empty, echoing voice said, sounding too far away if it belonged to the image. "I've come all this way to meet you, but I've known you for a very long time. We'll be seeing each other more often now. You see, I've finally come for your help."

Valeria tried to focus on the image as it changed and morphed and distorted even while it stayed in one place, as a television might try to hold onto one signal while two or three others interfered and broke in with different pictures. She looked closely at its face. If it was speaking, it was not from its mouth.

The image that held best was that of a boy close to her own age. He was quite tall, with jet-black hair. She stared intently to see if he was the one with the scar, but this was someone very different, and he tossed a glittering silver ball with one hand as he stood before her. Another image would break in, that of a freakish veined white blob with red eyes and slits for a nose. Flickering back to the boy once or twice, it would then morph into a tall skeletal humanoid form with very little pasty white flesh to its bones. The red eyes remained and the pallid spider-like hands twitched nervously as if ready to commit some terrifying act. All of the images, even of the boy, were horrifying in one way or another.

"You've been shown what Potter looks like?" the voice queried, controlled but calculating.

Valeria worked hard to find her voice. "Wha- Who?" she asked meekly.

"Potter. Harry Potter! The one who did this to me, who made me this way," the voice explained impatiently.

"I'm sorry-I - I don't know who you mean," she squeaked.

"Think! Think! They've been showing him to you for years," it demanded. "The boy with the black hair, the glasses-the one," the voice paused menacingly, "the one with the scar."

"Oh-oh, yes. Now I know. His name is Potter? They never told me his name."

"Idiots!" the voice yelled. There was a pause, then the voice continued in a piteous tone as if begging for sympathy and help, but there was a quality to it that made Valeria distrustful. "Can you see what I was like before? I was not unlike you-young, and eager to begin my life. I was smart, they say, one of the brightest of my school." The image on the fog-screen held briefly to the black-haired teenager. Was it trying to look happy? It was impossible to tell. "Just when I started to become stronger, become all I could be, Potter came. He took it away-he wanted the power all for himself."

Valeria was fighting the confusion. "Took the power? They-or you-showed me a boy. Did he grow up or...? How could just a boy do all that to you? And why?" She could not make sense of it-as evil as this thing was, a boy took its power? This thing felt powerful enough even now. To her mind, all this talk about 'power' sounded like something in a science-fiction movie- he had to mean in a business or something.

"I've told you!" the voice shouted, then said more calmly, "He wanted it all for himself. His looks are deceiving; he may look like only a boy, yet he is very clever. But enough! I need you to help me-you've been trained to help."

Valeria was certain she didn't want to help. If Potter was strong enough to take power from someone as evil as this guy, just how evil was Potter?

"What would I have to do?" she asked tentatively. Valeria was about to hear the one answer she had been afraid of for so long.

"You must watch for him for me. You must be my eyes. If he sees me, he could hurt me again, and so could his friends-they are stronger together." The voice sounded infuriated at having to say this, but gained control once more, trying to win her over. "Make him trust you. Ask him for help, he will pretend he wants to help you. You must lure him away from his place of power. We will guide you to a place to take him. Once there, we will give you other instructions."

Valeria's mind was spinning. Would the Muertos free her if she did this? Lure one bad person to another so they could do each other in? Or was this just the insanity taking her further into its depths with all this 'power' nonsense? She did not have much to lose at this point, aside from hoping they would let her go-and she knew that wasn't going to happen.

"Is that why I'm going to Ireland?" she asked.

"Yes. We have discovered he will be there. But you must find him. I cannot go with you in Ireland to look for him," said the voice.

"How will I find him?"

"We will guide you close to where he is. We can follow his approximate whereabouts through information from others. You will find him from there. "

"And his name is Henry- no, Harry-Potter? Do a lot of people know him?" Valeria questioned.

The voice considered this for a moment. "In his circle of friends, yes. In general, no."

"Do I need to know your name?"

"Do _not_tell anyone about me! You would destroy the whole plan!"

Valeria used her remaining strength to recoil at the sudden harshness the voice directed at her.

But the owner of the voice sounded like they were trying hard to take Valeria's world into account, trying to manipulate her into completing her task as soon as possible. The voice said almost nicely, "Please don't tell him about our little talk. But when you and I are together, you can call me-Tom."

At that, the image flickered once more, then disappeared completely. Valeria felt almost as she had earlier that night on the deck of the _Brigance_, like a burst of salt spray and fresh air had misted into her face. Then the reason occurred to her; much of the feeling of evil had left. What little remained-that which used to be enough to haunt her from the Muertos alone- now seemed insignificant in comparison.

The girl thought about this as the beings returned her mind to her. She knew now that she no longer had to be curious about whoever or whatever wanted to hurt the boy, Harry Potter, and who was in charge of the Muertos. She had just met the evil behind that hideous green skull.


	5. Changes

**~ Chapter 5 ~  
Changes**

Returning to their common room in Ravenclaw one frigid January evening, the two first-year students were surprised to hear crashes and shouting from a classroom that should have been empty for the night. They had almost snuck past when the door flew open, a chair burst through as if shot by a cannon, and a disgruntled male voice yelled, "Ron!"

Scurrying away, the two didn't see Harry Potter stride purposefully out of the still-open door into the hallway, robes flowing behind, looking somewhat irritated and intent on leaving the area.

"Harry!" a voice called, quickly followed by a red-haired head poking out the door to shout down the corridor. "Harry! Wait up! I didn't mean to do it- again! Harry, just-wait!" The head disappeared back into the classroom.

Harry resignedly stopped mid-stride. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back as he slumped against the nearest wall. "It's been one long night already," he muttered to himself.

Moments later, chair pieces returned and lights put out in the classroom, Ron walked into the corridor himself, stuffing his wand back into his robes, and clutching a book with his other hand. He approached his friend, looking rather sheepish.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to get so-upset-again," Ron began. "It's just-I keep trying to concentrate on my good thought, chant the spell, and just when it seems I'm getting somewhere, I get this other thought that it's never going to work because it's _me_doing it, and the whole thing falls apart."

"So blasting a chair out the door is going to help?" Harry questioned sarcastically, turning to walk down the corridor again.

"Well, it helps me, sort of," Ron mumbled, walking alongside.

"Then maybe someone else should do this with you because **I** don't think anyone can ever learn how to-" Harry stopped mid-sentence as a group of students passed,"- what _you're_trying to learn-by destroying every piece of furniture in Hogwarts."

"I _said_I didn't mean to," Ron repeated tersely.

"And I said this wasn't going to be easy, didn't I? Lupin told me this was very advanced magic, way beyond the O.W.L.s. You really have to concentrate. Or maybe you don't have the right good thought. That one took me a couple of tries."

Reaching the portrait hole, Ron gave the password,"Twitmuffin." They climbed through and into the bustling Gryffindor common room, still engrossed in their conversation, but speaking very softly due to the subject matter.

Ron looked at Harry seriously. "That emotion thing happened again with Ginny, and I felt the dementors for sure-I knew what they were this time. What if I can't protect her? And I still don't know who that other screaming person was." Ron's voice was rising steadily. "The point is-it's been a month. I've read some of the book. If it was you or Hermione, you'd have it down by now. But I don't feel like I have much time left, and I can't get it! I can't control the-you know-feeling emotions thing, I can't control my concentration well enough to make the-you know-"(having to talk in code was making things even more frustrating) "-so that's what makes me so angry when I'm trying to do it! Maybe I'll never get it!"

As they talked, Ron and Harry crossed the room to where Hermione and Ginny were sitting at a table together studying.

Harry loved Ron like a brother, but tonight his patience was already worn thin. His voice was not very loud, but its intent was unmistakable. "First of all, Ron, we all have to work at this stuff. None of it comes easily. Second, if you've already decided you can't do it, you're done. You never will. Third, it may have been a month, but you've _really _only tried twice. Find some patience and _work _for a change! And -do yourself a _big_favor: get off your own back!"

People in the common room were not accustomed to seeing Ron and Harry involved in this kind of heated discussion. Those studying had to move away to get some quiet, while others had stopped talking to eavesdrop. Suddenly, both boys looked around and noticed they were the objects of everyone's attention.

Ron's ears turned red and he flopped into the chair next to Hermione, scowling.

Harry considered sitting down with them, but he was already tired and didn't feel like talking anymore. Besides, seeing Ron next to Hermione when he was in this kind of a mood was like waiting for a train wreck to happen. "I have some reading to do," Harry said quietly. "Think I'll just read upstairs. Goodnight, everyone."

# # #

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny silently watched Harry trudge up the stairs to the boys' dorms. Hermione and Ginny then exchanged a look with each other and turned their stares towards Ron, curious as to what in the world had happened.

Sitting sullenly, the scowl still on his face, it took Ron a few minutes to feel their eyes on him. He turned to glare at them. "What?" he asked them both grumpily.

The two girls glanced at each other again.

"Nothing, nothing," Ginny said, settling back into her work, as did Hermione.

Ron could tell both girls were pointedly trying to ignore him, which was fine with him right now.

After a few silent minutes, Ron smacked the book he'd been holding in his lap onto the table. He looked to see if anyone around them was watching closely, then quickly mumbled under his breath and flicked his wand over the book, opening it before either girl at the table could see what it was.

Ron noticed Hermione was seriously trying to concentrate on her own work. But he was pretty sure she saw him do the silencing and unlocking charms out of the corner of her eye._ Any second now..._ he thought to himself irritably._ She's just too nosy-won't be able to help herself. Three, two,.._.

"Ron," Hermione whispered. "Isn't that from the Restricted Section?"

"What if it is?" Ron replied dangerously. "Playing prefect again, are we?"

"No." Hermione knew he was in a foul mood, and seemed determined not to be drawn in. "I just wondered what it was, that's all," she said, trying to sound off-handed about it.

"Well, maybe it's none of your business-again!" he continued, still obviously ready to pick a fight with someone. _Yeah, look. She's sitting there forcing herself to be quiet. Doesn't want to give in and say anything. But she will...she will.  
_  
"I just thought maybe I could help," Hermione said quietly.

"What? Help? Don't you think I'm smart enough to figure it out by myself? I mean, I _know_ I'm not as smart as you, but then, who is?" Ron said harshly. " I don't always need_ your _help, you know!" _You'd think I couldn't get along without her!_

"I didn't mean that. I mean- we help each other, don't we? Like when you helped keep me from getting caught when Filch was looking for us." Hermione really tried to say it nicely, apparently hoping the memory would improve the situation. But it only made matters worse.

"Oh, that! Well, if I remember, _Harry _told me to rescue you, so I was just doing it for him," he lied. "Besides, I knew you were sort of scared. I would have done those things for any girl who was scared." Ron saw Hermione's face fall - that one hurt-badly.

"You mean _all_of those things? For anyone?" Hermione looked directly into his eyes. They both knew exactly what she meant.

Ron didn't pay attention to the flashing _'Don't be an idiot!'_ sign going off in his brain. For some reason, the pent-up anger at himself just pushed him on. Not willing to back down, he glared straight back at her. "Yep!_ All_ of those things! For _anyone _! "

The stare-down continued a moment longer, then Hermione stood up and wordlessly began to pack up her things. She was looking down, so it was difficult to see that her eyes were now brimming. "Goodnight, Ginny," she said quietly. A tear slipped down each cheek when she looked up to walk quickly off to the girls' staircase.

Ginny turned on Ron. "I don't have any idea what that was all about, but it's clear you two did. And it's also clear who came out the worse for it, even when she didn't deserve it! Do you even _know_anyone who's not mad at you tonight?... Grow up, you stupid git!" Ginny scooped up her own things and, shaking her head in disgust, stalked away after Hermione.

Ron was left at the table alone to ponder his , his temper spent on Hermione, he couldn't ignore it now. The flashing sign in his head, now huge, read over and over, _"Congratulations, Weasley, you really __**are **__an idiot!"_

_# # #_

Spotting their younger brother working alone several days later at a common room study table, Fred and George exchanged glances and grinned. They strode to the table, each grabbing a chair and turning it backwards, then sitting down close to either side of Ron.

The younger Weasley knew their excitement was not a good sign. Without smiling, he looked at first one, then the other. "What do you guys want?" he grumbled.

"Hey, what's that? Not glad to see us?" George asked, acting hurt.

"Yeah. We see you all alone over here and come to say 'hi'..." Fred said.

"Break the monotony of all that hard work, come to brighten your day..."

Ron still wasn't smiling. "Yeah, right. What do you guys _want?"_he repeated.

"Well, as you know, the two of us are now in charge of Hogwarts rumor control," Fred began in mock seriousness.

"Yes, that's true. A tough job, but...anyway, we have a report that we need to confirm or deny," George added.

"And you're the one to help us."

"Great. Why's that?" Ron said irritably.

"Because it involves you, my dear Ronniekins," George teased.

Ron glared at him. "Don't _even_ call me that, or you get _nothing_from me." He turned back to Fred and sighed. "Okay, let's have it."

"It's a story about the enticing aspects of a certain study Carrel. Number Seven, to be exact," Fred began.

Ron shook his head. _Ginny! _he thought. He knew what was coming, besides a headache.

"Now most anyone who's anyone at Hogwarts knows why people go to study Carrel Number Seven. Though we insisted you were too young and far too innocent, there are rumors that you yourself have been there," George went on.

"Even before you were 'Sweet Sixteen'," Fred teased, clucking and wagging a finger at his younger brother.

"In the dark of night and in the company of..." George leaned in to whisper for effect, even though the room was practically empty, "the lovely Miss Granger."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "How did you guys find out? Did Ginny tell you?"

The faces of the twins lit up.

"Aha! So it's true!" Fred said loudly.

"But it's not what you think," Ron explained.

"Of course not."

"Never is."

The twin's ongoing routine was beginning to drive Ron crazy, as intended.

"We were trying to keep Filch from catching us," Ron protested.

"Well, of course. Embarrassing, that would be," George said. Fred nodded.

"No, not because of that," Ron said, exasperated. "We went to the library..."

"Mmhmm.. Miss Granger's _favorite_romantic place," Fred added in.

"Shut _up_ and listen!" Ron continued. " We went to get a book, er, 'after hours'. Filch almost caught us, so I remembered what _you guys _told me and we hid in there. That's all."

"And how long did you feel the need to hide?" Fred questioned.

"Did you feel the need to do anything else?" George asked.

"No! Nothing happened! Ask Harry! He was there, too!" Ron said impatiently, then realized his mistake.

The twins raised their eyebrows and repeated loudly, in unison, "Harry was in there, too?" They looked as if they might burst with the news, then stood up and began bouncing around, punching each other playfully.

Ron groaned. "You guys are sick! Sick! Just get away from me!" He folded his arms on the table and put his aching head down on them.

As the laughing twins bounded toward the portrait hole, Harry was just coming in.

"Hey, it's our faithful Seeker! What have you been seeking lately, Harry?" Fred asked, laughing.

"Find anything in Carrel Number Seven? Something better, even, than a Golden Snitch?" George queried. Without waiting for an answer, the two just continued laughing and joking right out the portrait hole and into the corridor.

Harry didn't say anything, just stared after them in confusion. After a few minutes, he turned and saw Ron's head still down on the table, so he walked over to see what he'd missed.

"What are they on about?" Harry asked the back of Ron's head.

Ron sat up, blinking and shaking his head. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

"So how's it going with the studying on the dementor thing?" Harry asked.

Ron considered for a moment how lucky he was to have Harry as a friend. He knew that Harry had been just as frustrated with him the other night as he had been with trying to perform that spell. But, being Harry, it had all blown over by the following morning, and he was back, as willing to help as always.

"You know, I think I'm not going to rush it this time. Next time I want to take it slow and concentrate. But I want to be ready to do it right, " Ron said.

"Wow," was all Harry could say.

"What?"

"Careful, Weasley, you might actually be taking something seriously here," Harry replied.

"Well, since I've been reading this book about Death Eaters and other Dark stuff, You-Know-Who's gaining more power, and now I'm seeing dementors, too, maybe I'd better start to take some things more seriously. I mean, I _am_almost sixteen," Ron stated.

"Who _are_you, and what did you do with my old friend Ron Weasley?" Harry teased.

"I know, I know, I probably deserved that," Ron said sheepishly. "Hey-Dumbledore and Dad talked the other day about the Cannons match. I told them a while back I wanted you to come for my birthday. But the match is in Ireland, and Dumbledore wasn't sure whether to say yes about you because of... You-Know-Who. The Ministry always tracks him anyway, if they can, and they're pretty sure he's nowhere near here or Ireland right now, so they think it'll be okay. They'll let us know in a couple of weeks. The match is only about six weeks away, you know." Ron got a far away look in his eyes. "The Chudley Cannons!"

"Okay, now I know it really _is_you," Harry said. "But that sounds good. Still the same people coming as before?"

Ron wasn't sure what to say. He was fairly sure Harry knew that Hermione hadn't talked to him once since the night of the last dementor practice. Knowing his little sister, Ginny had probably filled Harry in that it really had been a train wreck, all right, especially on Hermione's part.

Ron frowned. "Er... I don't know. Charlie and his girlfriend are still planning on it, but I'm not sure if Hermione still wants to go." He hoped his tone of voice let Harry know he didn't want to talk about it any more.

# # #

It had been a whole week now and he missed her. Of course, he'd seen her in classes, but they still hadn't spoken a word. These standoffs had happened quite often with Hermione and him during their roller-coaster friendship, but he tried to determine if he missed her in the same way he had missed his other 'friend' Harry when they'd been fighting last year. Ron spent a good part of Binns' class mentally talking to himself.

_I guess you know who was wrong here, Weasley,_ Ron told himself. _That means __**you**__ go to her to apologize. _Ugh-he hated apologizing, even to Harry. Then Ginny's words rang in his head for about the thousandth time since he'd heard them: _"Grow up, you stupid git!"_

Ron's first attempt at an apology during dinner that night failed. He'd tried to sit near her and just ease into the conversation with everyone else, Hermione included. She was nearly finished when he arrived with Harry. When Ron went to sit down, she casually picked up her things, said, "See you later," to Harry, and went off with Ginny. But not before (aha!) calling down to Neville that she'd see him in about thirty minutes in the library.

Telling Harry he'd left something in the Great Hall, Ron took off for the library after dinner. Sure enough, Hermione and Neville were there, seated at one of the tables near the stacks. Hermione pointed to something in the book in front of Neville and whispered; Neville just nodded his head.

Ron crept in along the wall, looking for an open seat where he could see the two of them, but far enough away that they wouldn't notice him. Before sitting, he turned around and grabbed a book from the shelf to pretend he was reading. Twenty minutes passed, and he still hadn't thought of a good way to approach the situation. He was considering leaving when he saw Hermione get up and walk into the stacks alone. Perfect!

Circling around behind so Neville wouldn't spot him and tip her off, Ron found Hermione reaching for a book near the top shelf, stretching on tiptoe, still unable to get to it. He watched her unseen for a minute. She stood on the edge of the bottom shelf, trying to jump and flick the edge of the book out with one finger so it would fall, and complaining to herself about being short.

Stepping up to her in the aisle, Ron touched her elbow so his presence wouldn't startle her. He barely had to reach up to take down the book and hand it over to her.

Hermione took the volume, scowled up at him from under her long dark eyelashes, mumbled, "Thanks", and began to step around him to leave.

"Hermione," Ron began, stepping in front of her so she couldn't pass. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

She looked at him defiantly, cinnamon eyes flashing, then swung her entire body and tried to pass on the other side. Ron extended his long arm across in front of her, effectively blocking the entire aisle.

"Ex_cuse _me!" she said tersely to him.

"One minute? Just one?" Ron asked.

"Why?" she demanded. "What good would it do?"

"Hermione?" another voice said tentatively from the end of the aisle. Neville had come looking for her and found Ron blocking her exit. "Is everything okay?"

"She's fine, Neville, goodbye!" Ron said irritably, looking over his shoulder at him.

Neville looked from one to the other and back. From the look on Hermione's face, he wasn't going to accept that everything was all right unless he heard it from her. "Hermione?" he repeated.

Hermione paused, looking down at the book she held. "Yes, everything's fine, Neville. I'll be there in just a bit, okay?"

Neville glared distrustfully at Ron and slowly turned to walk away.

"So. One minute. Go," Hermione said coldly, turning back to Ron.

"I know you're still mad at me, but it's stupid like this," Ron started sincerely. "We've been friends for a long time, and we should be able to talk to each other."

"That's all I was doing the other night-talking to you- and then-" Hermione stared back down at the floor.

"I know, I know. I was mad at myself, really, not at you," Ron admitted. " I was being a stupid git. I've told myself that a million times since then. Of course, a few other people have told me, too."

"I might have called you something like that once or twice, in case you didn't hear," Hermione confessed, softening a little. Ron smiled.

"Well, I'm not very good at this, but-I'm really- sorry, Hermione. Truce?" he asked, looking at her pleadingly and holding out his hand to shake.

She didn't accept it immediately. "I guess I'm not really mad any more. And part of it _was _maybe my fault in a way, because I was wrong about something _really_important to me, and you know how I am about being wrong," she joked lamely.

Hermione paused, looking up into his eyes searchingly. "You know, Ron, sometimes it really hurts to be your friend," she said softly and sincerely. She let out a small sigh. "But- okay. Truce." Hermione reached out her hand to his and shook it, then she turned away almost sadly and walked past him out of the aisle.

Ron stood stunned for a moment, leaning against the bookshelf. It was the first time he'd been this close to her since he denied everything that happened in the Charmless Carrel. He recalled the awful look of hurt on her face in the common room the night he'd told her it meant nothing.

It must have been very dusty back there in the library stacks that night, because Ron felt something in his eyes that made them water a bit when she told him how much it hurt to be his friend. He thought he'd best wait a moment to go out into the main study room, just until the watering passed.

_Weasley, you great prat! _he told himself once more. Looking into her eyes made him melt, her touch gave him goosebumps, and now she believed they didn't belong together except as friends. _What's wrong with this picture, Weasley?_ he questioned himself. He thought about how much it hurt him that he had hurt her. It surprised him in a way- he didn't used to think about it much. _You may have blown it -those feelings she had for you may be gone now. But at least you're talking -and that's a start. _Ron ran his fingers through his hair, straightened up, and started towards the library door.

Hermione and Neville were back at the table studying now. As Ron passed, Hermione glanced up, giving him a little smile that still managed to send those butterflies twirling through his stomach. He smiled back at her and kept walking-they were okay now-not good, but jammed his hands into his pockets and swaggered down the corridor with a comforting thought on his mind, _You know, Weasley, maybe there __**is **__still hope!_

_# # #_

Ron could feel their darkness, the cold, desperate thoughts flowing into his brain and body like ice water, but he couldn't see them. Ginny stood at his side, whimpering, trusting him to help her, but he didn't know how. The freezing water in his veins suddenly hardened until he couldn't move at all-and then they appeared. The dementors swarmed in around the two of them, but Ron was helpless. Ginny started to scream, terrified, and begged for his help-there was nothing he could do. One of the horrid black-cloaked beings floated up to his little sister and, grabbing her throat with a gray, scaly claw-like hand, tilted her terrified face up toward its open mouth-

"NOOOOOOOO!" Ron yelled, sitting bolt upright in bed, heart pounding, gasping for breath, covered in cold sweat. He felt around the bed in the darkness, found the school robe he'd tossed aside earlier, and scrambled to find his wand in the pocket. Clutching it, he whispered hoarsely, _"Lumos!_" and peered out through his bed curtains for any sign this was more than a nightmare.

Relieved to find that all seemed normal, he tried to calm himself, taking deeper and slower breaths. It suddenly occurred to him there were four other sleeping bodies in the room. He listened to see if they'd heard him, but there were no signs that they had, just the sound of shuffling bedsheets and steady breathing. Usually it was Harry with the frequent nightmares, and after four years, their roommates had pretty much learned to sleep through them.

"Blimey, it's freezing in here!" Ron said to himself, still certain he could feel the ice in his veins from the nightmare. A sudden image of the warm, crackling fire downstairs in the common room came to him and he got out of bed quietly. Putting his dressing gown over his pajamas, his school robe over that, and a blanket around it all, he headed for the door. One thing he knew for sure- he didn't want to go back to sleep right now.

Tiptoeing down the stairs, he was welcomed by the glow of the firelight as it shifted the shadows on the walls. Even though the light couldn't reach into the farthest corners of the room, it didn't matter, for everyone else had gone to bed long before and he had his choice of spots on the warm, cushy sofa in front of the hearth.

"This is more like it," he muttered, warming himself as close to the fire as he dared. He was secretly glad that Hermione had not been able to completely change the minds of the house elves with S.P.E.W. last year, because at moments like these, he was ever so grateful for their round-the-clock attention that kept the fires burning all winter long.

Finally warmed enough to move freely again, Ron threw the blanket off on the sofa, and settled himself there on one end to watch the fire. Mesmerized by the crackling and the licking flames for some time, he didn't hear a soft rustling sound until it was all but upon him.

"Ron?" said a soft, familiar voice. "Is everything okay?"

"Hermione?" Ron responded, squinting into the darkness. "Is that you?" She moved out of the shadows where he could see she was in her dressing gown again, her bushy hair pinned in a wad on top of her head.

"I heard someone down here and-"

"I know-you're supposed to check. Do you get any sleep _at all _with this prefect business?" Ron teased.

"Of course-when people go to bed, and _stay there_!" she teased back.

The two of them had been getting along well the past week since their truce was made, both of them determined to keep from starting the fight anew.

"I'm okay now. You can go back to bed if you want," Ron offered.

"What do you mean, you're 'okay now'? Weren't you okay before?" she asked.

"Stupid nightmare. Ruddy black beasties and things."

"Oh-I thought that was Harry's specialty."

"Me too. But lately it's been_ my_turn for the creeps' parade."

"Ahh. Trelawney's predictions getting to you?" Hermione questioned.

"Oh. So you heard. But no, it's not just that." He thought for a moment, wondering if he should tell her. "It's a long story. Maybe you don't want to get into it."

Ron remembered several weeks before, when he didn't want her to know anything about the feelings sharing, or the dementors, or his lack of being able to do anything about either. It was too embarrassing to let her see any sign of what he felt was weakness. But something had changed since then-between them, or in himself, and tonight it didn't feel like such a bad idea to tell her (except maybe he'd skip the time when it happened with her). He didn't feel like she would think less of him for it now-maybe she would even help. On the other hand, maybe she couldn't care less about his problems anymore and would just want to go back to bed anyway.

"Well, I'm not very sleepy, the fire feels wonderful, and as we've discussed, friends talk to each other, right?" Hermione said hopefully. "Can I sit?"

Ron pulled his blanket from the other end of the sofa and left it between them. Hermione curled herself into the corner there, facing her friend. She pulled her cold, bare feet up to warm them and Ron pushed an end of the blanket down to her so she could tuck her feet underneath.

"Ready to listen," she stated, smiling at him.

Ron watched the firelight dancing on her face and couldn't imagine why it had taken him so long to decide she was pretty- or to think of her as a girl at all. But what mattered to him tonight was that she was a friend who cared enough to listen and be there with him-how could she know it was what he needed most right now?

"Well, in Trelawney's class-" Ron began.

"Told you," Hermione interrupted.

"This is listening?" Ron countered in mock irritation.

Hermione pressed her fingers to her mouth and giggled. "Oh, sorry. Do continue."

Ron cleared his throat in jest and started in once more.

# # #

"Finally, Saturday. I thought it would never get here," Harry said between bites of bacon and buttered toast.

"Yeah, finally. If only we didn't have Quidditch practice. I could use a nap," Ron yawned. He'd slept well last night, but was still tired from being up most of the night before. He looked across the table at Hermione, who was already engrossed in a book, slowly chewing her buttered toast. She'd been up most of the night before last, too, talking with him, but you'd never know it to look at her.

"A nap? You've just gotten up!" said Harry, energetic enough to feel like annoying his sleepy friend a bit. "You're just not awake yet. Wait till you get outside in that nice refreshing breeze. Sky's blue, snow on the ground, everything sparkling in the sun-"

"Refreshing?" Ron snapped. "You mean a biting chill wind to freeze my eyelids open, more like it." He turned to Hermione. "You're doing homework already?" No response. "Hermione!"

"Hmmm?" she responded slowly, finishing her paragraph before looking up. "Sorry-what?"

Ron pointed at her book. "Homework? Already? On Saturday?"

"Oh-well, yes, actually. I wanted to finish my homework early so I could go do something fun after," she said excitedly.

"Now that _almost _makes sense, Hermione! What fun thing are you doing after?"

"Going to the library. Special project."

"That's fun? Have you been tested for this mental condition of yours?" Even if they were getting along, there were some things about her he would _never_understand.

"See- I remembered reading about this wizard once- actually, there was a Muggle, too. Well, you'll see." Hermione hinted, "You might want to come check with me later in case I find all I plan on today. Bring Harry, too, if you want."

Ron wasn't sure why he should be interested and looked confused.

"This is that special project -on what we talked about the other night," she tried again.

Hermione acted like he should know what she meant. First he frowned in thought, then it clicked. She was going to research his ability to tap into others' emotions! The other night she mentioned she'd heard of it once before.

"Really?" he questioned, pleased that she would take her Saturday to do that for him.

"Really."

He'd had a feeling that telling her the other night would work out. And if Hermione couldn't find any information about it, it didn't exist.

"Know what?" Ron asked, looking her straight in the eye. "You're the best."

Hermione blushed and returned to her breakfast.

"Come on, Ron," Harry urged, trying to pull Ron up off the bench by the back of his shirt. "We only have ten minutes to be on the pitch and we still have to get our equipment."

The two boys walked quickly through the corridor on their way to the Quidditch pitch after retrieving their equipment. Ron looked around as they walked out the front doors. It really was as beautiful as Harry had said it would be.

Ron breathed the cold air in and out, blinking in the sunshine. "I think you were right, Harry. I just needed to wake up. It's great out here!" Ron exclaimed.

"Told you. So did you ask Hermione if she wants to go to Ireland for your birthday bash?" Harry questioned. He was pretty sure his two friends had worked out their problems for the moment, even though neither had said anything to him.

"I forgot to ask her!" Ron recalled, then said slowly, thinking, "But-I have a feeling she'll go." Ron snapped out of his faraway look and saw the rest of the team already on the pitch below. "Come on, Harry! We're late!"

They broke into a run, slipping and sliding down the snowy hillside, kicking up little mounds and drifts of sparkling white as they ran.


	6. Science and Omens

**~ Chapter 6 ~  
Science and Omens**

"Geez, Hermione-are there any books _left_in the library?" Ron asked, staring at the pile of volumes on the table as he walked from the boys' dorm stairs.

Hermione watched as he yanked the chair out next to her and folded his tall frame into it. He grimaced a bit after bending his leg, probably feeling a muscle twinge from Quidditch practice that morning.

Luckily, Hermione had found a quiet corner of the common room. She didn't think Ron would want anyone eavesdropping on their conversation, and from there they could protect themselves from any sneak attacks, especially from red-headed, older twin brothers. The beautiful, clear blue sky morning had turned into an afternoon of puffy gray-white clouds and frequent snow flurries. Their seats by the window allowed them to hear the swishing whisper of the flakes as they grazed the outside glass before falling in a soundless mound on the sill.

"I'd hoped there'd be more information, but according to the books, it's really rare, so it hasn't been studied much. Besides, what you do must be really unusual because it's a combination of two abilities."

"You're calling this an ability?" Ron responded. "It happens, but I'm not sure it's an ability. I can't _make_it happen."

"You must be doing something-whether you know it or not- even if you're just being open to it in a certain way. Here's the first part: 'An empath is very able to sense the presence and emotional state of others around them. They can identify mentally with another person and hence, feel or understand their feelings. They can, at times, involve themselves with those feelings, especially when dealing with strong emotions: hate, fear, despair, anger, excitement, euphoria, love, etc. Empaths can sometimes help others sort out their own emotions by reflecting them back to the owner'."

"That seems about right. Like with Ginny, first she was afraid of failing Snape's test, then the next time she became afraid _and _angry at bloody, stinking Malfoy," Ron said, thinking back.

Hermione's eyes snapped up to give Ron a look. It was the profanity she objected to, not the description of Malfoy-she felt that was actually quite accurate.

"See how good I am? I can tell you're angry because I called him-" Ron started, his eyes twinkling, but she pushed her hand up to cover his mouth before he could get the words out again. Ron laughed and pulled her hand away. "Okay, I'll stop. Now I forgot. What does it say again?"

"Serves you right you forgot. Read it yourself this time. Starts right there." Hermione pointed at a line in the book. Ron scooted his chair closer to hers so he could read the part she'd shown him. Trying to fold his long arms under the table wasn't working, so he rested one arm on the back of her chair and leaned close.

_Oh, don't do that! _Hermione's brain wished at him. She looked away from him and out the window as he read silently, attempting to ignore him by looking for patterns in the white snowflakes against the evergreens and the castle gray.

Ignoring him wasn't going well. When he'd first come down to meet her, his wet hair gave away that he'd showered after practice. (_Likely a good thing, _she thought. Even though he could have cleaned up magically, she knew he liked showers better, he was just was too lazy to dry his hair). Smelling wonderfully of the forest after a rainstorm, Ron wasn't aware of how distracting he was to her when he leaned in to read and added the warmth of his body so close to hers. _He's a FRIEND! _her mind screamed._Don't be stupid and expect anything else! You'll get hurt again!_

Hermione heard a noise from the stairs and looked up to see Harry strolling over to join them. (_Saved!_ she thought. _Concentrate on talking to Harry! _) He too looked like he'd showered, but at least he had taken the time to dry his hair -even if it _didn't_help it behave.

"Seems like you found one or two bits about it, Hermione," Harry said sarcastically, pushing the mound of books aside so they would be able to see him once he'd sat down. "Not that I'm surprised."

"Yes, but we haven't gotten very far," Hermione replied. "He's still reading in the first book."

"So have you found out what's wrong with him yet?"

"Other than the obvious?" Hermione teased, glancing sideways.

Ron finished reading the paragraph and sneered at them both. "You know, if I find I can do this mind thing, I should roam around both of yours and seriously _search_for the comedy sections. I really think they've gone missing." He was obviously not comfortable being the topic of conversation.

Hermione explained, "The book says empaths can sense the emotions of people around them. I thinks that's part of what's happening to Ron- that's as far as we got."

"But with me, the people usually aren't very near, except with He-" Ron stopped himself just in time, just before saying "Hermione".

"With who?" Harry questioned in confusion when his friend didn't finish. "Except with who?"

"Actually, now that I think about it, they've always been pretty far away. All of them," Ron fibbed, a bit too strongly. "Every single time."

Harry and Hermione glanced at him strangely, then at each other.

"Anyway," Ron continued quickly. "The point is, what happens to me doesn't match with the book, so-"

"That's the next part," Hermione broke in. "Have you two studied telepathy in Divination yet?"

"No, I think it's a sixth-year class, but you have to apply and be accepted," Harry offered. "Trelawney doesn't want people in there with zero ability, clouding the 'realm of possibility' for the others."

"Hmmm. Well, I'm thinking Ron would get accepted. Listen." Hermione read from a second book, "A telepath is someone who can communicate from their mind to the mind of another without speaking or writing or using gestures."

"Gestures can be quite effective sometimes. Don't you think, Harry?" Ron commented.

Both boys tried to look serious, then burst out laughing.

Hermione gave them a warning look, then cleared her throat and continued, "With their connection, one person acts as a transmitter and the other becomes a receiver, similar to a television or radio connection." She stopped reading. "Well, Harry knows what I mean-this one's a Muggle book."

"I know what you mean, too," Ron protested. "Or haven't you met my dad?" Mr. Weasley's collection at the Burrow was well-known for its variety of Muggle artifacts, especially anything having to do with electricity.

Hermione kept reading, "The telepathic experience is affected by a number of variables, but mainly the power of the telepath to transmit and the ability of the receiver. Often, the connection also depends on how well the two people know or like each other, and how strongly they believe they can do it. Some telepaths or receivers are so skilled at their art that they do not need the permission or knowledge of the other to complete the transmission. Distance can also be a factor." Hermione snapped the book shut, leaving the marker in place.

"So that explains the distance part," Ron commented. "This all sounds too complicated to be something I could do."

"Have you done anything to make it happen so far?" Harry asked. Ron shook his head. "So how hard could it be?"

"Now for the _really _interesting part. This is where it gets a little dodgy, because like I said, this seems to be pretty rare." Hermione pulled the oldest book out of the stack, one with a very ornate cover, obviously a magical book instead of a Muggle volume. Using the page marker, she opened and read, "By the seventeenth century, reports of five wizards and two witches had been compiled (since Magical Recorded Time began) who showed similar abilities in non-verbal communication. Two other women and one man made up documented cases of non-magical persons who possessed the same abilities."

"So from what they're saying, this isn't necessarily a magical ability?" Ron asked.

"Right. From what little they know, it's really rare and very special, but not necessarily magical," Hermione summarized. "It says, 'The word for the combination of these abilities is derived from the roots of the separate words, and is called 'telempathy'. A person who can perform this specific combination of tasks would be called a 'telempath'. A telempath, therefore, is a person who can communicate with another person over distance, can identify with the person well enough to understand and/or feel their emotions, and can act as both transmitter and receiver, able to communicate thoughts, ideas, feelings, and images using only the powers of the mind. Telempaths are rare in the wizarding world, even rarer in Muggle society. They are usually found to be in the mid-teen years or older because some level of emotional maturity is necessary to understand the episodes and deal with them accordingly."

"Did you say emotional maturity? Well, then, it's all over for Ron," Harry only half-teased.

"What do you mean? I'm emotionally mature. Haven't jumped up and down on Krum's play figure for -well, weeks, at least," Ron protested sarcastically.

Hermione gasped. "Why would you-? Oh, never mind," she asked Ron, then thought better of it and returned to reading the text. "Telempaths feel the entire range of human emotions especially strongly themselves, but cannot communicate false emotions. Case studies show telempathy usually can't be controlled and is random. However, undocumented cases tell of telempaths who have overcome this and learned to control the ability at will."

"Er...what?" Ron asked, as he and Harry sat staring at her, their mouths slightly ajar.

"Ron, this is you!" Hermione said excitedly. "From all you told me about your 'dreams' or whatever you thought they were, it has to be! Don't you think so?"

"Can you translate it all into English so I can get as excited as you?" Ron questioned, still a bit dazed by it all.

Hermione did indeed do all she could to explain in layman's terms, and repeat, and answer questions for Ron and Harry. By the end, they too were thinking this really might be what was going on with Ron in its beginning stages. After all, the episodes involved all those things, the age was close, and there was no doubt Ron felt emotions strongly.

Harry seemed to feel the need to comment on this. "Actually, I'm not sure. I mean, It's so hard to _tell_ what Ron's feeling most of the time, especially when he's frustrated, or _angry_," he said sarcastically. "With him, there's never a need to fear yelling, or profanity, or _flying furniture_, after all."

Ron had been shaking his head. "Oh, all right, Harry, next time I'll tell you when to duck." He turned to Hermione. "So what makes you so sure you're right about this?"

Hermione flashed a wide grin and raised her eyebrows. "Women's intuition," she replied haughtily. "Actually, I think I'm pretty good at_ that_ myself." (_Except , maybe, where the male species is concerned, _she thought.)

"Really?" Ron teased. "Well, if you're right about me, I may have to take you on about that." Suddenly, Ron grabbed at his stomach dramatically. "Oh, I'm feeling something right now. It's...it's hunger!"

"That's not an emotion!" Hermione said disapprovingly.

"It is for me right now, because I'm feeling _really_hungry and I'll be quite emotional about it if I don't eat," Ron insisted.

Harry leaned over to 'whisper' to Hermione, obviously intending for Ron to hear. "I think we've created a monster."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but it was Ron that spoke. "That would be a _telempathic_monster to you. And careful, I know what you're thinking!" Ron joked, piling the books to pick up later, and heading toward the portrait hole for dinner.

Hermione and Harry just rolled their eyes, looked at one another, and resignedly followed Ron to the Great Hall.

# # #

After much discussion among the three of them, Ron, Harry, and Hermione thought perhaps it would be wise to include Ginny in their plan to test Ron's telempathic ability further, since she was usually the one emotion-sharing with him.

Ron wanted to talk with Ginny first, alone. Having read the information that said telempaths connect more easily with someone they are close to, it was obvious why he kept connecting with Ginny. Aside from the twins, Ron and Ginny had been the closest pair of siblings in the Weasley family, and he was depending on that relationship to help him tell her about this. He tried to imagine what it would be like for someone to tell _him_ they had shared some of _his _innermost feelings and realized there was a good possibility Ginny would be completely horrified at the thought.

Overall, Ginny took it quite well. She told Ron if it had been anyone but him invading her privacy, it would have been different. She seemed to feel much better once he explained to her in detail that it had only happened three times, and which three times those were. After all, she had told him about Snape's class of her own free will, and his sharing her happiness at the party was no big deal. Ginny was edgiest about the situation with Malfoy.

"Why didn't you tell me that bloody prat was bothering you?" Ron demanded. After being very gentle to this point (for Ron), he came on a bit strongly now.

"Ron, I know how much you care, and I love that," she said sincerely. "And it's true, I was a little worried about what he'd try next. But you know what? You can't be around all the time, and if it never happens again with Malfoy, it might with someone else. I need to know how to take care of myself and I _refuse _to be helpless. I _did_take care of the problem, didn't I?"

Ron admitted that she had indeed, with a swift elbow to the ribs. He had to tell himself that she was growing up right along with him and it gave him the courage to tell her what had _really_been worrying him.

"Gin, there's a part of this we haven't talked about."

"Don't tell me you've been there when I was with someone I _do_like!" she half-joked.

Ron worked hard _not_to think of who that might be for now and spoke to her seriously. "No. I need you to know this, and it's not a good thing."

Ginny was sobered by his expression. "Go on."

"That time in the library. Do you remember any feeling at all that there was something evil around?-er-besides Malfoy?"

She pondered the question. "Well, it's been a while. And I _was_a bit distracted by the more pressing problem. But yes, I think I do remember wondering if Malfoy himself could really be that evil, to make it feel so cold and hopeless there. Why?"

"Since I didn't know how to get to you that fast from the hospital ward anyway, I had a few more seconds to focus on that evil feeling. And it's been driving me crazy since then." He paused to gather his courage. "Gin, it was a dementor." Ron looked into her face to see if he was frightening her. She seemed all right for the moment. " I don't know if it was really there lurking in the library with you and Malfoy, or just in what_ I _saw of it. But since then, I keep thinking that it, or others, will come back, and that somehow it's tied in with you. I'm trying to learn how to protect you from them. So far, it's not going very well." Ron had a dejected look on his face. He _wanted_ to be able to tell her she had nothing to fear, but what he _needed_to tell her was the truth.

It wasn't often that Ginny saw her closest brother this serious, or worried, about anything. Now _she_ seemed to be a little worried about _him_.

"Ron, you know everything happens for a reason. If you felt a dementor was there, it was to help you start working on trying to defeat them, so you'd be ready when the time came. And if, for some reason, you're not ready then, that's the way it's supposed to be. I'm not a baby anymore, and I won't live in fear all the time. We can't _wish_ the Darkness away-it's here, and if my part in that involves dementors, I have at least one big brother who I _know_would do anything he could to help me. That's all I could ever ask for." Ginny glanced over at Ron, who was staring at the floor.

Finally raising his eyes and flipping his hair back, Ron was less worried now. "So, you'll be okay with this telempathy thing? It may be a rough ride-I don't know how to control it yet-maybe I never will. If I happen to pop in on something I think you'd be embarrassed at, I'll try to pop back out, okay?" He managed a small grin at that.

"Yeah, you'd better!" Ginny warned. "And now I know you might be there, I better learn how to shut the door in my mind, just like at home! "

Ron made a mental note to stop considering Ginny his "baby sister". There was nothing babyish about her outlook on the world at all. He had no doubt that any bloke or any dementor, even, who bothered her, had better be ready for what they got in return. Ron looked over at his sister proudly and did something he hadn't done in quite some time: he put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him. "Thanks, Gin," he said quietly.

Ginny reached around his waist and hugged him back. Releasing him, she smiled and said matter-of-factly, "This ability they think you have- I don't know about anyone else, but I _always_knew you were special. Really a pain sometimes, but special."

Ron watched her stroll down the corridor from where they'd been talking on the stairs. _Hmmm_, he thought, _never really thought of myself as special. I kinda like it._

_# # #_

That had been three days ago.

Hermione watched Ron chuckling heartily.

"Yeah, Trelawney just ate it up," he laughed. "You should have seen her face when I told her I wanted to do my term paper on telempathy. Of course, I think I could have done whatever I wanted. She still looks at me as if it's the last paper I'm ever going to do before I die." He lowered his voice dramatically. "Beware the Ides of March, young Weasley!"

Harry, Ginny, and Hermione all laughed at his theatrics, but the 'Ides of March' were only a little more than a month away. The way the world had changed so drastically, it might not be so comical then.

"Fun, isn't it? It's like she's already mourning for you before you're dead- kind of strange," Harry agreed. "What makes someone like that?"

"Too much time on their hands and not enough of a life," Hermione said disgustedly, ready to move on. "Now, about this experiment."

Even though Ginny herself had told them she had a huge paper due for Snape's class, she agreed to help the other three that Sunday to try and find out just what Ron's capabilities were.

"On one condition," Ginny added. "Harry has to help me with my paper later."

"Me?" Harry asked quizzically. "For Potions? Hermione's the one to ask for help there. Not that I mind helping you, Ginny, just-well, it's not my strong suit."

Ginny wouldn't budge. "But Hermione's helped research all this for Ron, and she knows how to set up the experiments so they're all done scientifically for his paper. Can you do that, Harry?"

"Er...well..."

"Just as I thought. Besides, you did all the stuff I'm doing now, last year. It'll be easy for you."

Harry still looked hesitant, but said nothing.

"That's the deal, otherwise I have to go now and get started. You want my help, I get your help," Ginny insisted in a strange voice, focusing on Harry.

Hermione had been watching this exchange with interest. _I can tell flirting when I see it, Ginny, _she found herself thinking. She noticed Ron had been watching carefully, as well-and didn't look especially pleased.

Harry just looked bewildered. Then he appeared to make a decision and went with it. "Well, okay. But only for the cause," he said teasingly, giving Ginny a smile Hermione had never seen Harry give anyone before.

Ginny, apparently feeling victorious after seeing that smile, purposely ignored Ron's scowl and turned her attention to Hermione. "So, what do I do?"

Hermione had decided that to find out just how strong Ron's abilities were in each realm, she would separate the two and test just one variable at a time. She sent Ron and Harry to the next classroom over, also vacant because it was the weekend, with instructions for Harry to stand by the door and watch for Hermione's signal from the room where Ginny was. Ron was to sit inside the second room somewhere he could be most comfortable. (They had already deduced that Ron was most able to connect when he was relaxed-all his "connections" -that anyone knew about- had had that in common.)

Ms. Granger, the scientist, had Ginny sit in the first classroom and concentrate on one thing. Hermione gave Harry the signal when they were ready for the next exercise, and Ron carried on. Ron first found which color Ginny picked out of a set of four papers, then ten, then twenty. He told which object she was thinking of (a goblet), first from a printed page, then a different object she only pictured in her mind (the fireplace mantle in the Burrow). What amazed all of them the most was when Ron sent a message back for Ginny to report to Hermione, "This is too easy!"

Next, Hermione decided to see if distance mattered (she was recording all of this very methodically on some charts and graphs, of course, so Ron could write his paper later-_if _he could understand the paperwork). She decided to make a big change so she didn't hear it was "too easy" again- other end of the wing, one floor up, different exercises (Harry and Hermione had to keep running from their doors to the stairwell to accomplish this). By the end, Harry didn't even move, just wrote down what Ron said, because Ron_ knew_ when Ginny was working on the next exercise. And- he still passed them all. Even though Ron himself was surprised at his success, he couldn't help boasting a bit. This time his message was, "Anything more _interesting_than this?"

Hermione was getting a bit irritated, even though she was impressed with the strength of his ability. He was sailing through all the exercises she had worked so hard to put together. And though she couldn't see Ron, she was guessing from the attitude of his messages that he hadn't yet broken a sweat.

She called them back together to talk about the second part. Well, actually, the third. Having set up a second section with just empathic tests, Hermione decided to skip them, since apparently Ron and Ginny had a very strong connection. So, on they went to Part Three- complete telempathy. This one was a bit tougher because Ginny had to think back to a time when she had felt a strong emotion, and concentrate on that enough to _feel _the emotion again as deeply as possible.

Hermione sent Ron and Harry to the Astronomy Tower this time, and to the amazement of them all, Ron described perfectly how Ginny felt and what she was thinking when Tom Riddle had lured her into the Chamber of Secrets. It had taken him a bit longer to focus on all of it, but at least with Ginny, his abilities were clear.

Ron hadn't even been aware of which event in her life Ginny was going to pick, and he hadn't been there when his little sister first entered the Chamber to see Riddle. Afterwards, he had never pressed her to talk about it much, so it was truly amazing how many details about Ginny's experience he could relate. By the end of the exercise, the gruesome subject had dampened all of their spirits a bit. Ron and Harry, walking tiredly from the Tower, told the girls they had decided to break for lunch.

As they finished lunch, Ginny asked Hermione if it would cause a serious problem if she didn't go back to help them.

Hermione was worried it had to do with thinking about the Chamber. "We could work with something else, if that bothered you," Hermione offered sympathetically.

"Yeah, that was pretty brave to put yourself through all that again," Harry complimented.

Ginny glanced at Harry, then looked down and blushed.

Hermione thought Ginny finally sounded like she was getting over her horrible experience in the Chamber of Secrets, or learning to deal with it at the very least. Of course, Hermione also knew that by recalling the Chamber, Ginny had the opportunity to remember that _Harry_ had saved her and how _that_felt.

"No, it's not the Chamber," said Ginny. "The real problem is that I only have the afternoon to finish my paper, and the time has me worried."

"Should have just asked Ron what you were concerned about," Hermione said, a bit sarcastically. "No, go on ahead. I'm thinking of trying something different now anyway. It's obvious you two can make a strong connection."

"Something different?" Ron questioned, eyebrows raised, flashing his cocky grin. "Like what? Something more _difficult_, perhaps?'

"Oh, don't get all smug with me, Ron," Hermione said. "The only variable we haven't changed is the receiver. You and Ginny grew up together and you know each other very well. I think we should try someone different."

"Like who?" Ron asked suspiciously, suddenly acting very afraid of what she might say. "Harry?" he tried hopefully.

"Of course not. Harry promised to help Ginny, so he can't be there."

"Who, then?" Ron questioned, wincing.

"Me."

Ron looked like a Bludger had just blindsided him, right in the temple.


	7. The Telempath

**~ Chapter 7 ~  
The Telempath**

Ginny and Harry decided to head off to Gryffindor Tower first to get Ginny's books, before they went on to the library. They said goodbye to Hermione and Ron outside the Great Hall.

"Good luck, Hermione!" Ginny called. "Don't let him push you around, mentally or otherwise!"

"Never!" Hermione called back, glancing sideways at Ron, who was rolling his eyes with lips pursed.

The fact was, Ron's brain was in high gear trying to think of a reason Hermione would accept as to _why _they shouldn't do this together. She considered herself as just another subject in the experiment (_something she'd probably been dying to try all day anyway, _he thought), but Ron was afraid it could get a lot more complicated than that- real fast.

As they strode along the corridor, back toward the halls of empty classrooms, he brought up the only few reasons he thought might work.

"_You_ don't have to do this, you know. Won't it, like, bugger up the results or something, if you're involved in it _and_recording it?" he tried.

"No. I think I can be honest and objective, even if I'm part of the experiment."

_Nice try, Weasley. But you'd better try again-this could be dangerous._ "Well, what if I can't connect with you for some reason?" _Liar! You already know you can!_Ron's brain complained. "I don't want it to start another row between us."

"That's what we're trying to find out, isn't it? I think our friendship is strong enough to withstand it. If you can't connect with me, so what? It's nothing I'd need to feel bad about." But Hermione didn't sound so sure about that.

_Damn-that didn't work either! _The last one was really lame, but it was all he had left. He faked a yawn. "You know, I'm finding out this telempathy thing is really tiring. I'm running out of energy fast. Do you mind if we-"

Hermione stopped and wheeled on him in the corridor, hands on her hips, eyes flashing. "Ron Weasley, if you don't want to do this with _me_, then-just say so!"

_Uh-oh_. "No, it's not that, it's just-"

"Oh-afraid, are you?" Hermione shot at him.

Ron turned on _her_this time, staring down into her eyes defiantly. "No," he said very deliberately, keeping his gaze steady, inches from her face, the adrenaline helping him find the courage to hold it.

Hermione glared back up at him a few moments longer, though she had to turn away from the intensity of his eyes after that. "Well, okay then." She sniffed, tossed her head, and started down the corridor again.

They continued walking in silence, not really angry with one another, just (as always) maintaining the standoff. Entering the room they had started in, Hermione opened her folder of charts and rifled through them for a blank one.

"Okay." Hermione's tone was very business-like. "First of all, since we don't have anyone to help us as runners, I think we should just see if you can even make a connection with anyone besides Ginny here in this room. I mean, other than your 'mystery screamer', whom we can't seem to find, you've never connected with anyone else, right?"

Ron could feel his ears turning red, and he walked toward the windows so she wouldn't notice. _I knew it! Cornered already! _He had to make a snap decision whether to lie or level with her. "No. No one else." He was angry with himself- for some reason, he hated lying to her, and that didn't used to bother him either.

"I didn't think so. We'll try the simplest ones first, like you did with Ginny. Just the color ones, okay? I'll sit over here," she said, facing a chair into the corner by the door, "and you sit over- here." She faced another chair into the corner by the windows. "That way we won't see each other and you won't know what color I'm concentrating on."

"Okay," Ron agreed, without much enthusiasm. "You're the scientist." Neither of them had managed to find a very good mood yet. But he went to his assigned seat anyway.

Hermione sat, chose a colored paper, and held it close in front of her so he couldn't cheat. "Go ahead." She concentrated on 'sky blue' for about five minutes.

Ron shifted in his chair uneasily, creating the only noise in the room. _It's not gonna work...it's not gonna work...she's going to be really angry... _

"Did you hear me?" she asked, apparently thinking he hadn't started yet.

"Yes."

Hermione heard his voice bounce from the corner, so she knew he was still facing the other way. "Anything?"**  
**  
"Wouldn't I have told you?" Ron responded.

"Well, try again. Maybe you have to do it differently with different people."

"That's the point. I told you I don't _know_how to do it. It just happens."

"Well, try to relax. It's from your relaxed state it works best, right?" Ron thought how ridiculous they must look, having a conversation facing in opposite directions.

"Yes, but it's hard to just relax out of the blue sometimes, too." _Especially after dealing with you_, Ron thought,_ for one reason or another._

"Well, just try again."

Ron sighed. "Okay." _This is for your paper, Weasley. Consider it homework, not wasting your Sunday._

Hermione concentrated for what must have been another ten minutes this time.

"Still nothing?" she asked hesitantly, but seemed afraid of what the answer would be.

"No. Not a clue."

"Well, that's probably it then," Hermione said, back to her business-like voice. "Maybe it's just something between you and Ginny, because you're family. I'm sure that happens, and it makes sense, really. You know, it's probably because you were raised in the same environment, used the same vocabulary growing up ..."

Ron stopped actually listening to what she was saying to hear her tone of voice. He could hear the disappointment in it and also knew she would keep babbling to cover it up. He wasn't sure if her frustration came from the failed experiment, or because _he_ couldn't connect with her. _I'm sure it was the experiment, _he thought. Hermione was still rambling, but he heard her get up to collect the paperwork.

"Hermione," he interrupted, turning around in his chair, trying to dredge patience from his very depths. "Wait. Think. Remember what we read. It works better when the two people know or like each other well. So that part should be... okay," Ron stammered, not wanting to get into_ that_any further right now. "And how much they believe they can do it. Were you using your 'women's intuition' you claim to be so good at?"

"Well, I wasn't thinking about it. Women's intuition just sort of happens. I was concentrating on the color," Hermione said, realizing what she'd just said.

"See?" Ron said. "That's what I mean. It just happens. Is there a way we can be trying too hard or something?"

"Hmmm. I suppose, but I'm not sure what to do about it." Hermione seemed uncertain whether to ask, but she did anyway. "Would you want to try one last time, and I'll try to be more receptive, or something? Let me think of-a class we had here at Hogwarts instead of a color-maybe it has to be something we did together."

"Well, that sounds more interesting, anyway. Remember, it's usually 'random and can't be controlled', especially by someone like me. Didn't they mention me specifically in that last part of the book?" he teased. "Okay, one last try."

Both of them settled in their corners again, with Hermione's assurance thatshe would concentrate on something they did together. She appeared to try and relax and be open, as did he. The ten minutes of silence were deafening.

"It's no use! " Ron yelled, jumping up angrily. He had just plain run out of patience. "See? It's not going to work, Hermione! With Ginny, it's just a-a- fluke or something! I don't have any 'special abilities'! You were just trying to get my hopes up about it!" Ron slammed his foot onto the chair and shoved it toward the wall.

Hermione stood up and faced him, her jaw dropped open, stammering. "I never...I was just trying to help...I only found the research...I ..." Tears started to well in her eyes in reaction to his sudden outburst.

Ron was still ranting. "I wish this bloody stupid thing never would have happened! It's not like I asked for it! Fighting off dementors for Ginny, hearing people screaming! Maybe I'm going nutters! I just thought it _couldn't _be a coincidence, because it happened with three different people!" He stopped shouting a moment, too angry to splutter out anything else.

Hermione had been listening to his raging as she moved to get the paperwork again. "You mean two people," she said absently, thinking she would hurriedly pick up and leave.

Ron didn't think-he was too mad. "No, I said three! There were_ three _!"

Hermione appeared determined not to participate in a yelling match, but she also seemed to feel she was right. Calmly, she said, "There were two, Ginny and the screamer. You said so yourself. No one else."

"Well, I lied! There-you happy?" Ron spit out, folding his arms across his chest and facing the windows.

Hermione gasped. "You lied?_ Why?_Who was it, then? Who was the third?""

"Never mind!" Ron said acidly, still facing away from her, fuming.

"Okay, then. Don't tell me. I can't believe you lied about something so stupid anyway." Obviously irritated at him, Hermione was nearly to the door, folder in hand, when something came to her that she recognized as being, clearly, Ron:

*It was you! I connected with_ you! _In the Charmless Carrel that night with Harry!*

The folder dropping from her suddenly limp hand, papers swooshing across the floor, Hermione turned slowly to face Ron's back. Quietly she asked, "What did you say?"

"I didn't _say_anything," Ron replied aloud, sullenly, still staring outside.

Hermione froze. It seemed to take Hermione's brain a second or two to realize she'd gotten the message, but she hadn't heard his voice the first time. It was true. He _hadn't _said anything.

Hermione spied something on the teacher's desk behind Ron's back that was moving quickly towards him.

*And if you let that spider near me, I'll...I'll... give Crookshanks to Hagrid as a snack for Fluffy!"

Hermione's gasp let Ron know she had gotten the message. "You wouldn't!"

Moving away from the approaching spider that he couldn't possibly have seen except through her feelings about it, Ron turned at the same time to face her. He kept his arms crossed over his chest, in pride this time, and smiled triumphantly. This time he _had_ done it-he _made_it happen. He likened the feeling to knowing where someone's house was and going there-he knew where Ginny's mind was, (and probably always had), so he could just go.

But Hermione's mind was out there in all of time and space-he'd been there once, but he couldn't remember the way. His anger had somehow launched his newfound searching system, letting him sense his way carefully toward her with his mind, as one would feel their way through a pitch-black cave by feeling any familiar bumps and crevasses along the walls. He wasn't once certain he was on the right track until he'd arrived, but it was worth the effort. Ron had found Hermione-and he wasn't going to forget the way again.

Hermione recovered from her initial shock and ran to him. She threw her arms around his neck without thinking, at once nearly knocking him over and choking him. "You did it! You did it!"

Ron just laughed out loud, trying to regain his balance, and attempted to unfold his arms with her hanging on him. Once he did, he wrapped his arms around her awkwardly and loosely hugged her back.

This ability was weird-he didn't know whether to connect with her mind or talk to her out loud. _Yeah, _he thought, smirking, still quite impressed with himself_, but __**anybody **__can talk._

_*So, how does it feel?*_ Ron asked her mind, thinking it must be polite to ask before you try and move in on someone else's emotions. _*Or shall I tell you?*_

Ron felt Hermione loosen her grip on his neck and pull back far enough to look into his eyes. She was studying his face as if he were someone more than himself, someone much more special and brilliant than who he thought of as just plain old Ron. It made him feel strange and self-conscious, but proud and important all at the same time.

"It feels-it feels..." Hermione began thoughtfully, "Like your words, like your feelings and ideas, just appear inside of me. It's very odd, but very wondrous, all at once. I feel sort of warm and relaxed and a bit out of focus like...oh-I know-like when I'm right on the edge of falling asleep."

Ron noticed he felt as if the two of them were held together somehow, as if enclosed in some great opalescent bubble, even before she had actually, physically touched him. He wondered if she felt the same, but he was too embarrassed to ask.

Her cinnamon eyes were somewhat dazed when he looked at her, and the sound of her voice startled him momentarily.

"I was afraid-"

_*That I wouldn't be able to do this with you,*_Ron completed her sentence with a thought.

She hardly noticed there was no voice involved. "I wanted it for you- for you to be able to do it."  
_  
*And you wanted it for you, too. Because you're feeling that it's about as wicked as I do, that we can. Use your mind to talk if you want.*_

They were still touching, but barely, his hands loosely on her waist, hers on his shoulders. Both of them seemed afraid to move farther, or even breathe much, in case it would break the connection, and they didn't want to do that for a long, long time.

Ron felt her hesitation about moving, but read it as fear of the whole situation. _*You don't have to be afraid. I can feel you are, a little. I think I can stop it if you want me to.*  
_  
"No! No, don't. It's just-different, that's all." Hermione still seemed completely in awe of the situation. She wanted to try sending a feeling as well. _*But it feels so wonderful-we're so close-I'm not sure-*_

_*Where you end and where I begin?*_Ron finished. Both of them hung on that thought for a long moment.

Hermione blushed. She hadn't really thought he'd get her message. Yet it was clear that he had, _and_that he felt the same way.

_*Does it feel this way with Ginny?*_Hermione wanted to know.

Ron hesitated this time. The difference between telempathy with Hermione and Ginny was like night and day. He knew he had the advantage in that he could feel Hermione's emotions, and send and receive her thoughts, but he wasn't sure if she could sense _his_feelings. He realized that could be at once a blessing to him, and on the other hand, unfair to her. Ron was completely aware that she wasn't asking him this for scientific reasons-her desire to know was purely personal.

_*Er, no. I communicate with Ginny, but it's more one-sided. No, with you, it's very different. With Ginny, it _doesn't _feel like this.*_ _Great-I can even stumble over my words when I'm not saying them._

That the experience was different with her seemed to please Hermione in some way. He could feel it made her happy._ Hmmm_, he thought to himself,_ if we believe the book, it said no false emotions could be transmitted. Which means, I could check to see if she might still have feelings for me-it seems like she might. _He only considered it for a moment because it felt wrong to try and find out without permission. It wouldn't be the same as if she told him or showed him herself, of her own free will. It would be like stealing something that was meant to be a precious gift.

A noise in the hallway made them both jump and the connection wavered a bit.

_*Try moving away,*_Ron instructed her gently.

"You want me to?" she asked, a bit afraid that he was done with the connection.

_*No, I don't really want you to. It's really nice just like this.*_ _Arghhh! Did I just let her know that? I'd better be careful with this honesty deal, too. Well, at least I can tell she liked it. _He blushed and tried to change the subject quickly_. *It's just - do you want to try the distance bit? See if we can stay connected?*  
_  
Looking only a bit less dazed, Hermione sent him a disappointed _*Yes, I guess we should for now.*_Still looking into one another's eyes, they pulled away from each other completely. Standing free, they were a little surprised they felt just as connected mentally.

Hermione started to back up little by little, almost falling backwards over a chair. The connection wavered, but it came back as strong as ever.

_*Look-we're clear across the room now. You wanted to see if it would work while we couldn't see each other, *_ Ron reminded her. _*Ready? Turn on three- one, two, three!*_

They both whirled quickly to face opposite walls. Hermione gasped out loud. Ron even said, "Wow," audibly.

Ron wasn't sure what part of her experience was equal to his, and before, he hadn't been able to see images very well, so he had to ask. _*Are you looking at the wall?*_

"Yes." She kept forgetting and saying her words aloud.

_*This is maybe a weird question. Can you still see me?*_

"Yes! How can that be?"

_*I don't know. It never happened before. I wanted to still be able to see you, so I do, in my mind. But my eyes are seeing the wall.*_

"Me, too!" _*I mean, me too!*_

Ron chuckled at her quick switch from spoken words to mind language. This was like having some magnificent new toy at their disposal-better even than a charmed Ford Anglia.

_*What do you want to try now? We could try and keep the connection and I can go down the hall or-* _Ron offered, tiring of looking at the wall.

But Hermione interrupted. _She even interrupts me in her mind?_ Ron thought. _This is __**my **__connection, you know._

_*I have an idea. You could break the connection, I'll go somewhere, and you try and find me with your mind and make the connection again. That would be a good experiment. Think you can do that?*_

_*Er, I don't know. Sounds like hide-and-seek to me.*_ It had been hard enough to find her mind when she was right here. On the other hand, he'd had no problem with Ginny after he knew where to look. He shrugged. _*Sure, if you want.*_

Suddenly, Hermione appeared to feel worried about something. *_Oh, no-what if it never happens again?_*

_*Oh, I'm- pretty sure I can find you again,"_ Ron said quietly in answer to her thoughts. (_Yes! _he thought slyly to himself. _Maybe she does still care! ) _He couldn't help himself from turning to look at her then.

Hermione wheeled around to stare across the room at him.

Ron was sure she could see how deeply he'd blushed even from there. He could see her face doing the same. Hermione must have realized she wasn't only thinking to herself, she was thinking to him.

"So-you can read my thoughts even when I'm thinking to myself?" she asked him tentatively.

_*Yep. That time I did. But I didn't mean to. I think I could find out what you feel or think about anything if I wanted, but that wouldn't be fair.*_

Hermione was shocked at the maturity of such a thought coming from Ron Weasley._*Do I get to read your thoughts if you don't send them on purpose?*_

He shrugged. _*Don't know. Want to try? I'll just think something to myself without intending to send it to you and you see if you can read it. Of course, I may just be good enough to be able to block you out.* _He smiled at her mischievously._ *Start any time.*_

Now put on the spot, Ron's brain drew a blank. _Let's see. What can we talk about, self? _He studied Hermione's outline and focused on her bushy hair._Oh, I know. Remember the time we were chasing down the Blast-Ended Skrewts and mine made a fireball that almost started the ends of Hermione's hair on fire? That was hilarious! Harry had to act like he just couldn't wait another moment to pat her on the back for being a good friend so we could put the sparks out. I don't think she ever even knew what happened._  
_  
*Well? I can tell you're not happy, so I guess it's not working?*_Ron knew she'd be screaming by now if she'd really read what he was thinking.

_*No. But I'm coming over there.*_Hermione said, determinedly crossing the room. She eased up to him, looking at, but not into, his eyes, as if maybe she would be able to find something there to help her pick up his thoughts.

Ron tried to ignore her by watching straight ahead, hands behind his back, while she studied him. Being careful to think it only to himself, with her standing so close in front of him, he grinned. _I wish Hermione would come throw herself at me again. _He glanced down at her out of the corner of his eye and saw her working to concentrate. Yeah, she definitely had _not_gotten that, or something more would have happened.

Finally, after a few more minutes, Hermione clenched her fists and stomped her foot. "Oh, it's just not fair!" she said irritably.

_*That I get the chance to think to myself and you don't? What-you think you're supposed to get everything? A brilliant mind and all the talents of someone like me? Oh, no, no, no. I guess the natural order of things does make life more fair than that.* _Ron teased, smiling at her evilly.

Hermione was becoming irritated enough at him, she thought she might be able to stand breaking the connection-for a little while, anyway. _*Okay, Mr. I-Know-Just-What-I'm-Doing, let's see what you can do. Consider yourself challenged to some hide and seek. My mind and I will hide, you send your mind to find us," _she thought smugly.

_*Oh, so you're ready to be on your own for a while, eh? Okay, here goes.*_Ron closed his eyes and imagined leaving where her mind was the same way he'd come, but this time he knew how to get back. Breaking the connection was a bit like sliding down a hill, and by the bottom, the connection was broken.

For Ron, the return to full reality was actually very disappointing. He missed the connection immediately. It was empty and lonely and not half as much fun when he was separated from her thoughts, and _her_. Now he had to deal with the real world of speaking, and misunderstandings, and the horrible awkwardness with Hermione that seemed to almost disappear when they connected (after all, no one else could hear what was said between them there). All the magic he could perform had never overcome those things, no matter how hard he tried. But it also taught him to treat the time when they were connected with care: it could become too easy to shut out the rest of the world far too often. He _really _missed being that close to her, as if they were halves of a circle, or flip sides of a coin. But there was always next time...

Hermione, obviously dealing with her own sudden feeling of loss, shivered and pulled her robes more tightly around her. She was frowning and appeared to be upset at herself about something. 'Hermione the Scientist' seemed to have gotten far ahead of 'Hermione-Who-Thought-Feeling-That-Close-to-Ron-Was-Wonderful'.

"Well, I guess we have to talk to one another again. We don't always do as well with that, do we?" Ron asked her, a bit of the connection honesty spilling over into his real world words.

It came naturally to speak of them together as "we" now, since the connection had taken their minds so close. It was hard to believe that the tiny word would have likely made Ron cringe with embarrassment a half day earlier.

Hermione sighed a bit sadly. "No, I guess we don't." Yet suddenly, an idea came to mind, a sparkle lit her eyes, and a mischievous smile now shone at him. "But-now I _can_ think whatever I want about_ you_without having to let you know!"

"Like what?" Ron demanded, a smile playing around his mouth, too.

"As I said-with_out_having to let you know!" Her smile for him was still there-he was staring at it, fascinated, as his stomach tickled at him from the inside.

Ron realized, gladly, that he didn't _always_need a telempathic connection to have a pretty good idea what she was thinking. And he had a pretty good idea that she was flirting with him in her own way.

"Okay, in fifteen minutes I'll be somewhere and I'll stay in one place for another fifteen. After that, you'll just have to keep looking. Oh, and you don't win by just finding me, of course. You have to convince me that you know what I'm thinking about, too," Hermione stated, setting the rules, as she so often did in life.

Two could play at this flirting game-in fact, it wasn't much fun otherwise. Ron looked out from under a lock of his coppery hair and grinned at her evilly. "What do I get if I win?"

Gasping playfully and appearing shocked, Hermione stared back at him. "What makes you even _think_ you'll win?I'm _not_ going to make this easy, you know!" At that, she turned on her heel and headed for the door. "Fifteen minutes!" she shouted, then stuck her head back in momentarily. "By the way-_you_ get to pick up all these papers!"

# # #

Hermione knew precisely where she was going, though she didn't think about it much until she got into the corridor. She wasn't sure just how capable Ron was yet or if he could cheat and check her mind before she left.

Hoping she wouldn't get distracted by anyone she knew, Hermione strode purposefully through the castle. She avoided the library since she knew a number of people were working on papers there, but overall there were only a few straggling students in the corridors.

Climbing the last of the numerous flights of stairs to her destination at the top of the West Tower, she threw open the door at the top and looked around above her. On the roosts lining the walls below the glass-domed roof were owls of all shapes, sizes, and colors. It looked as if most of the students had been too busy working on term papers to write much to parents and friends, for the Owlery was as full as she'd ever seen it.

Scanning the roosts methodically in search of something, Hermione heard a soft deep hoot near her ear and felt the swoosh of air from powerful wings fluttering down from above. She turned to see Hedwig's big, beautiful eyes blinking at her fondly from the tying stand.

"Hedwig!" Hermione said gently, reaching up to scratch under the owl's beak for a moment.

Hedwig made an affectionate little noise and turned her head further into Hermione's hand.

"I was looking for you, Hedwig. I don't have anything to send for Harry, but it's been a long time since I've seen you." Hermione glanced around at the straw on the floor, then scanned the room until she found what she was looking for. On one side of the Owlery, under a covered portico, were several bales of clean, fresh hay the house-elves used to replace that on the floor. But Hermione had another idea. "Wait right there," she told Hedwig.

The owl watched the girl curiously as Hermione walked over and yanked several handfuls of hay from the bale. Crossing back towards Hedwig, Hermione piled the straw on a narrow bench near the tying stand. Pulling her wand from her robes, she pointed it towards the pile.

_"Edibulum!"_she commanded, and easily transformed the hay into owl treats.

"Hey-ouch!" she squealed in alarm, ducking down. Before she could pick up any of the newly formed treats, she had felt something thunk her in the head, then thrash wildly about in her hair. Hermione reached up to discover some creature was indeed trying desperately to get out of her hair, but was becoming more entangled as it fluttered about. She carefully grasped at the panicked lump and gently pulled until it became completely untangled at arm's length.

"Pig!" she cried, standing the excitable little bird on her forearm and holding him closer to her body so he could lean on her while she smoothed his ruffled feathers. "How you ever get where you're going, I'll never know!" Pig looked a bit sad. "But I'm glad you came to see me, anyway."

Ron's tiny owl then hooted contentedly as Hermione finished trying to preen him back to normal, then set him up on the other end of the stand with Hedwig. The grand snowy owl looked down her beak at him in queenly exasperation. Ignoring this, Pig just rocked from one foot to the other, looking pleased to see one of his best-loved human friends.

Hermione reached down to the owl treats and quickly fed several each to her two favorite owls. Satisfied, the two of them refused any more, so Hermione began to throw the leftover treats into the air toward the other owls on their perches. Soon owls were swooping through the air to gather the treats before they fell back to the straw, and some would even swoop down to grab the treats almost as soon as they left Hermione's hand.

Hermione began laughing at their antics to outsmart each other and get the treat first, and it began to remind her of feeding birds in a far different place than this several summers before.

_Aha!_ she thought to herself. _Ron would never find me there-and I still remember just how it felt! _Even if it was not clear to her how the telempathy episodes worked, it seemed to her that the farther her mind was left to wander, the more difficult it would be for him to find her.

Treats since gone, and the owls now settling contentedly back onto their roosts (minus Pig and Hedwig, who were determined to stay with their visitor as long as possible), Hermione looked around for a place to sit besides the rickety old bench. She had told Ron she would only be in the one place 15 minutes, but her legs hurt from the long, brisk, steep walk to the Owlery and she didn't think he'd ever find her here, anyway.

Pulling down an old woolen blanket that had been hanging on the wall by the fresh hay bales, Hermione spread it on the floor next to the bales, so she could half sit, half stretch out her legs in front of her while she worked at remembering that summer on holiday with her parents. She knew that through the connection, if Ron found her, she could use her feelings to make him experience everything she had when she was there, and everything she wished would have been.

Three summers ago, the trip with her parents had seemed much like any of the many others she'd taken with them. But the difference was, she had never had a number of good friends to miss before. Now, there was Hogwarts and the many acquaintances she'd made there, with the teachers, her housemates, the other students. And there were her two dearest friends, Harry and Ron.

Now, when she traveled with her parents on their many summer and holiday excursions, the loneliness could be almost unbearable. Oh, she loved her parents, of course, but it wasn't the same as sharing it with your friends. Plus, parents always thought of the most annoying and boring ways to pass the time on holiday.

But she hadn't found the trip to Italy a total loss. The sun was warm, the breeze cooling, the water crystal had been a aqua blue, and the sand gritted between your toes when you walked. Hermione would stand on the beach throwing bread in the air, the gulls squawking loudly at one another to get there first, much like the owls in the Owlery had done.

Even though it was hardly as exciting as her magical studies, she'd found she loved to study the plants and animals in the rocky tide pools at the water's edge, as long as one watched out for the huge breakers slamming onto the rocks that always threatened to soak you instantly. At low tide, there were lots of things to see and touch and poke at. But how she wished she had someone to share it with then, especially when she would see other kids in groups, laughing and talking loudly, pushing and playing their way down the beach.

The little moon-shaped cove was surrounded by low craggy cliffs, on the crest of which pastel-colored villas sat, staring out over the ocean. On either end of the sandy beach the foot of the cliffs reached out into the sea, as if to protect the soft, delicate sands of the cove from the pounding surf. Fragrant, flowering plants hung down in strings from where their roots were embedded in the rock face, causing the cliffs to appear as a grotto of some sort. The detailed images of all these things returned to Hermione's memory almost immediately.

Hermione walked in her mind along the sand, wanting to remove her shoes and socks, but knowing from experience she would need them on the sharp rocks where she was going. There were very few other people on the beach, as it was late afternoon and the misty air was beginning to get an orange glow about it. None of the several beachgoers seemed to notice or bother with her.

She reached toward the handholds she had used before and, putting one foot in the space that was just big enough, she pulled herself up onto the tide pool shelf. From here, she could see the faraway ridges in the water that would become swells and then breakers as they approached the land. Lost in her own thoughts and thoroughly enjoying the sun on her face, the breeze on her skin, and the beauty surrounding her, she barely noticed yet one more wonderful sensation until he spoke.

_*This place is __**wicked!**__*_she felt him say in one of the Ron-ism's she never understood.

Standing next to her, his hair appearing more flame-like than ever as it blew in the pale orange of the late afternoon light, Ron gazed out over the ocean with her. _*I've never been any place like this before!*_During his few prior telempathic experiences, he'd never experienced or sensed such detail. But then, as he'd noticed the last time with Hermione, no one else's mind was as strong as hers, either.

Even after thinking she had made it difficult for him to find her, it somehow didn't surprise Hermione much that he had. She looked over at him almost proudly, noting that he was far more impressed with where they were than with what he had just done. She was happy she could show him this place, but was even more pleased that he had managed to find her.

_*You've never been to the beach?*_ Hermione finally asked him.  
_  
*Not this kind of a beach! Just the kind with gravelly sand and little bluffs and stringy little plants all over, where all I get is dusty and sunburned. Ministry wizard holiday beaches must be lots different than dentist holiday beaches.*_

_*Well, we could go somewhere else if you want. I know some beaches like that, too, and since you actually found me here...*_

_# # #_

Ron finally tore his eyes away from the ocean to look at her. _*And you thought you were going to make it so difficult, now, didn't you? Told you I was pretty sure I could find you again.*_

The wind blew her hair across her face as she looked up at him and she reached to pull it away. That strange hungry feeling in Ron was back with a vengeance, gnawing at his insides. It was telling him the one and only answer to that urgent hunger lay on the lips he was staring at so intently. Looking into her eyes to distract himself from her lips only made it worse-he felt like he was on a steep slope of ice, sliding into the inevitable. The feeling was telling him to do something he had never considered before.

Ron leaned closer to her as their eyes locked, but she started a little at what she saw in his, so she turned away. The spell broken, he turned away himself and coughed as a distraction. He was confused-she had managed to push herself away from him a little, even in the telempathic connection. Something was wrong, and she had blocked him away from it - how was that possible?

After a few minutes of staring in opposite directions awkwardly, Hermione broke the ice.

_*Hey, look over here,*_she said, pointing down into one of the tide pools at a tiny blue crab.

Ron walked over and peered into the pool, reaching in roughly to grab the crab and getting pinched for his trouble. _*Ouch! Little bugger!*_ he said, shaking his finger._*You didn't tell me they could bite!*_

_*They don't bite!*_Hermione replied, giggling at him.

Ron didn't notice for a moment that she was studying him as he rubbed at his pinched finger. He wondered how long she'd been at it and it made him feel self-conscious again. She appeared to be trying to figure out what in the world to do about him. He certainly had heard her giggle more today than she ever had before.

Hermione had told Ron she wanted him to feel for himself the beach experience she knew and loved. She made him close his eyes and feel the sun and the breeze on his face. He was asked to smell the air, and was tricked into smelling some dead mussels under the rocks (Ron had several choice expressions for that). They played with the creatures in the tide pools, sticking their fingers into anemones and feeling the tingles as the sea animals' protective stingers stuck into their fingers. Ron fancied himself fast enough to catch one of the baby fish darting through a pool, and found he had fancied wrong. He could feel all the things she had felt that day _through_her, and it was truly amazing.

Ron noticed Hermione made mental note of the tide as the hour moved closer to sunset, but he wasn't sure why. _Just one of those meticulous things she does, _he thought. She'd kept him away from the edge of the large flat rock face as the breakers moved closer, playing at prodding the starfish and watching him find out just how big an abalone he could pry from the rocks with his fingers. Eventually she called him closer to the rock face and had him look deep into a tide pool there, on the pretense of seeing an eel that was hiding. Then she scrambled toward the cliffs.

As Ron knelt down with his back to the ocean, a tremendous boom shook the rock footing he was on and he looked up instantly. Momentarily startled by the thunderous sound of the breaker hitting the rock face, he froze-until a virtual wall of water that had been thrown skyward, fell over him like a net and splashed to the ground around him.

He gasped out loud as the cold, hard, falling water hit him, then stood up with arms out, shaking them. His hair plastered to his face, water pouring off of his clothes, Ron spied her leaning against the cliff, watching him and laughing behind the hand held over her mouth.

_*H-e-r-m-i-o-n-e!*_ he yelled slowly and dangerously into her mind in a mental voice that was too deep for Hermione _not_ to take seriously. _*You'd better _bloody_ well be running! *_

Her smile faded a bit. She looked as if she was thinking maybe she'd gone too far and was considering his suggestion to run, but there was nowhere for her to go except straight up. The height and the overhang at the top of the cliff precluded that from being successful.

Ron was walking straight at Hermione now, dragging his drenched robes across the rocks. Trying to dodge him as he came closer, she was unsure of what he was going to do, and she seemed even a tiny bit afraid. But he was still too quick for her and was in front of her almost immediately. She was trapped with the cliff slopes surrounding her.

_*Oh, so amusing, eh? I know __**I **__thought so,*_he told her, wiping the drips from his face with the back of his hand.

*No-it was an-accident,* she spluttered out, trying to stay serious, but smiling in spite of herself.

_*And you accidentally left at just the right moment? How __**lucky**__ for you!...Notice you had to say it, not think it... You're __**lying**__, Hermione. What would McGonagall say?*_ Ron thought at her, directly, but not too angrily. _*But -you know what? I've forgiven you for lying because I'm a grand enough person to do that. Come. Let me give you a __**big **__hug to prove __**just **__how forgiving I can be.*_

Ron watched her slowly catch on to his plan. Eyeing him carefully as he moved in on her with dripping robes and arms opened wide, she squealed. _*No!...No! I'm sorry, Ron! I mean it! I shouldn't have done it! I'll never do it again! I-*_She turned away from him, cringing, as his long arms wrapped completely around her.

The shock of the cold, wet cloth hitting and folding around Hermione made her gasp and scream, but she was laughing. Ron allowed her to wriggle around in the circle of his arms until she faced him. He was delighted to see her turn so he could shake droplets from his sopping hair onto her face like a puppy coming in from the rain. Ron knew she wouldn't be able to push him away, for her arms were trapped folded between his body and hers, and he just pulled her in tighter so she couldn't escape. He felt her shiver as the wetness from him began to sink into her clothes.

_*The Weasley Water Torture! Want to try something like that __**ever **__again? Huh? Huh?*_he demanded, laughing as she scrunched her face against the wetness he splashed on her.

Ron leaned down to rub as much water from his soggy face as he could onto hers. But one moment he was playing and the next he was not. Suddenly everything went serious, and quiet, and there was nothing else in the world. He knew he should let her go, but his arms refused to do it. Ron's heart and his mind were vying for his attention, but there was no doubt his heart was winning.

Hermione's giggles had ceased, as well. She just stood in the circle of his arms, quietly. Both of them shivered this time, but neither believed it was from the cold.

_*Ron?*_ Hermione thought gently to him. _*Then you really did connect with me in the Charmless Carrel?*_  
_  
*Er... yeah.*_ _She's looking into your eyes now. Might as well stop fighting it. It's over for you, Weasley._

_*You sent me a feeling then, too? *_  
_  
*Yeah. I didn't know I could. It was the first time I did it. The first time- was with you.*_He was trying to think, not feel, but it was impossible with her so close. Their faces were inches apart.

_*Was it true?*_

_*I can't transmit false feelings, right?*_Ron thought to her scientifically, trying to throw her off for some reason unknown even to him. He wanted to keep her from getting too deep inside, trying to avoid the truth her eyes demanded of him. No one had ever gotten this close.

She searched his eyes. _*Was it true?*_she repeated.

He could tell she wasn't going to take the answer from him. She wanted him to give it to her.

_*Yeah.*_ _Oh, God-her eyes!_The sense of urgency surrounding them was terrifying and intoxicating all at once. Ron closed his eyes, and leaned toward her, his lips first barely brushing hers. His mouth found hers in earnest then and paused there, feeling the deliciousness of how soft her lips were, and how warm, and how wondrous they felt when he let his mouth move over hers. Though he had no idea what he was supposed to do, he knew he wanted this and let his instincts take over-this felt right and natural-it felt as if he was born to do this- with Hermione.

Although she was at first startled and wide-eyed, Ron felt Hermione relax under his kiss. He'd never consciously thought about it before, yet it was more than he could have ever hoped for: not only was she allowing him to do it, but she was most definitely kissing him back. He felt airborne-this was _Hermione _kissing _him! _

And then it hit him.

Like a slap, Ron suddenly felt fear, and confusion, mistrust, and pain-lots of pain. All from her. All those awful feelings were there inside her, when all he could feel inside himself were these wonderful ones. How did this happen? His eyes snapped open. She was gone. He tried to reach her with his mind, but she had fled. The now-familiar cold, lonely emptiness began to fill him once she had wrenched herself from him, mentally and emotionally. He wanted the connection back, the feeling back- he wanted _her _back- now, right now! But she'd slammed the door to her heart in his face and left him out in the cold, alone.


	8. Sending an Owl

**~ Chapter 8 ~  
Sending an Owl**

Hermione forced herself to break away savagely from his kiss, from his arms, from his mind. It felt instinctive to protect herself, a matter of survival. She found herself back on the floor of the Owlery, shivering violently. _It was a trick_, she told herself,_ it was all in my mind, like a dream. He's hurt me too badly before- I can't let him play with my feelings like that - he'll just hurt me again._ Hermione had discovered she could block Ron out if she had to-and she _did_have to-she didn't trust him enough. If she dared let him in, he had the power to hurt her to her essence, to her soul. As deeply as she cared for him, it could take so long to heal, she might never feel whole again for a very, very long time. She couldn't risk it.

Hermione felt the tears welling up in her eyes and she had to get away. The two owls on the tying stand stared curiously after her as she ran by them making a choked, whimpering sound. But as she approached the door, it flew open and there, in the doorway, blocking her path, was Ron.

# # #

Ron had begun to search her out while they were still connected and luckily, had been nearly there already (though he'd had to stop and reflect alone on the scene at the beach for a few minutes). After she'd left, all he had to go on was a hunch- and the hunch had led him to the Owlery. He wasn't at all certain that she'd even acknowledge him, but he had to know she was all right.

He forcefully shoved the door open and there she was, standing right in front of him.

She froze in her tracks.

"Hermione...don't." He had to say it aloud now-the connection was broken and she wouldn't let him in. Ron couldn't even imagine how she'd done it, or why. He was worried- for her, for himself, for the two of them together. "What happened?"

"Nothing...Everything... It wasn't you. Well, not what you did just now. That was - perfect." She stifled a sob, and the tears began to flow down her face.

Ron was confused. If it was perfect _(inner grin)_, then why the tears? "If you don't want me to, I won't-"

"That wasn't it. It's just-"

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I didn't really plan on doing-what I did-but ..."

Hermione began crying in earnest now, her shoulders shaking. "It hurt. But not like that."

Ron felt like he was searching frantically for a needle in a haystack. What_ was _she talking about? He momentarily considered leaving, but even if she hated him, he couldn't just walk away and leave her here like this. He realized that if he left now, the whole issue might be completelypushed away and forgotten out of sheer awkwardness. He didn't _want_to forget what it was like to kiss her, and right now he felt as if he'd die if never allowed to do it again.

Ron moved into the room and let the door close behind him, tossing the sheaf of graphs he'd brought with him on the bench. He approached her cautiously, apprehensively, hoping she wouldn't suddenly bolt for the exit. Hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, he stood rigidly and watched her cry for a moment. Connected or not, he could feel her pain as readily as he could see her shoulders shaking. Now that he was here before her, he wasn't sure what to do next. In one sense, he wanted to hold her and comfort her. In another, he was afraid touching her would only make matters worse.

"Er..want to sit down?" Ron asked quietly, realizing it sounded incredibly stupid.

"No."

There was a huge pause, broken only by Hermione's sobs muffled into the sleeve of her robes.

"Want to leave? You can tell me if I should go with you- or not," Ron offered miserably.

Another pause. "I don't know." Hermione was working hard to pull herself together-there was less sobbing and more sniffling, but there weren't enough words to help him figure out what to do.

Two minutes more and Ron couldn't take the tension any longer. "Hermione-what can I do to fix this?" he said rather loudly and a bit more harshly than he intended. But, in all fairness, it was driving him crazy. All this emotional stuff, with crying and kissing, and even worse, _talking_about it, was not part of his comfort zone.

"I don't know if you really _want_to fix it," Hermione said, not much louder than a whisper. She wiped at her face with her robe sleeve.

Ron had to lean down to hear her at all. "Well, I came to find you, didn't I?"

Hermione sniffed and looked up at him cautiously. "We agreed to be friends, right?"

"Right," he said very slowly. Ron's stomach dropped. So that's what this was about. She only wanted to be friends, he had gone and kissed her, and now she didn't know what to do about it. _Smooth, Weasley!_While his brain was busy telling himself how stupid he was, something in his chest started twinging painfully.

"Well, that time in the Charmless Carrel-I thought you meant you wanted to be-you know-better friends than before, maybe more than just friends, right?" she asked carefully. Her eyes searched his face more deeply as he looked down into them.

_If she really only wants to be friends, I will __**never **__be able to look into those eyes again and survive it, _Ron thought.

"I wanted to believe you meant that," she said, her eyes darting downward and starting to fill with tears all over again.

_You DID? She DID? You wanted to believe I liked you? This is a good sign, _Ron thought. He wished she would let him connect with her telempathically-things just went so much easier. _Come on, Weasley, just tell her. They're just words. Spit it out! _"I _did _mean it. I mean, I still do mean it." _Okay, so words __**are **__the enemy._

"Then why did you say it was nothing-you would have done that for _any_girl who was scared? Why did you act like you hadn't told me-that?" Hermione questioned.

"I don't know," Ron said sheepishly. "Lying to myself, I guess. I think I was a little..." It was tough to admit this to her. He swallowed hard. "-Afraid, maybe."

"Afraid of what? That someone would make fun of you for liking me-Miss Know-It-All? With big teeth and bushy hair? 'Little Miss Prefect'?"

Ron's own words shot like a Cruciatus Curse through his heart. If that's what she was feeling, he _had_ to fix it, and fast. She didn't deserve to feel like that. He was determined to try and say it, but he knew he wouldn't be able to look at her when he did. "First of all, there's _nothing_ wrong with the way you _look_.-" (his tone of voice almost seemed to convince Hermione on that point, even if he _was_ telling the floor instead of her.) " -and I _wouldn't_ care what anyone else thought, anyway. Those other things make you-_you. _You're-different than the other girls-" He felt her looking at him questioningly. "In a good way..."

_You've got to tell her or you just might lose her for good. Put yourself on the line, Weasley. She's worth it, and you know it. _Still staring at the floor, Ron began quietly. "I think I was afraid of how I felt about-you. I mean- how _much. _Remember, _you_said telempaths feel emotions strongly. Er... I think you're right." Ron felt himself blushing to the tips of his toes, if that was possible. " I thought you didn't feel the same. So I sort of pushed it away. I didn't mean it to hurt when I said those things. But it was already too late."

Hermione just stood silently for a few minutes and appeared to be thinking. She was unaware that Ron was also afraid of one more thing-that he might keel over and pass out in the Owlery, right then and there.

"I can't just say it's all okay," she started. "That wasn't even the first time you said something hurtful to me. But I want to trust you. I want us to-" Hermione said, stumbling when she hit the word "us".

Ron kicked at the straw. "I can -try- and prove it to you. That you can- trust me not to hurt you."

"But it can't just happen, Ron-it'll take some time."

"Well, we have another two years and something at Hogwarts. That should be a start," Ron said hopefully.

Hermione wasn't sure if he was trying to be funny, or if he meant it. Plus she needed to clarify something else. "You mean trust you just as friends or-?" Hermione asked sincerely, reaching out and touching his robe sleeve.

The adrenaline coursing through his veins from her touch and pure fear gave him the courage to look into her eyes once more. "No. Couldn't you tell-what I meant?" Both of them knew he was talking about what happened at the beach.

"But I wasn't sure if that was real. I mean, you were there with me, but not here with me. I couldn't even really touch you, so I thought you were just teasing, like we were in a dream, and it would all end when we woke up..."

"I'm right here. I'm not teasing." He finally pulled his hands from his pockets and, awkwardly, yet ever so gently, held his hands against her cheeks. "Does this feel real now?"

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded slightly. She appeared to be taking in everything about his touch. Seemingly unable to struggle against the strength of her feelings for even one moment longer, Hermione sighed.

As Ron cradled her face in his hands, he felt how cool and smooth her skin was. But most amazing to him, he heard her make a wonderful little noise in her throat that gave him goose bumps immediately. His hands, warm from being in his pockets all this time, seemed to be doing something to her that he could only imagine. But if she felt like he did... These sensations had _nothing_to do with imagination-yes, this time was definitely real.

"Trust what you _feel_, Hermione." Given courage by the fact that he'd already, in a way, done this (_and __**perfectly,**__ she'd said) _Ron leaned down to kiss her lips so softly, so sincerely, the tears welled in her eyes again. In one long, lingering kiss, he tried to make her feel all the emotion that had been locked up inside of him for so very long.

When their lips finally parted, Ron pulled away to look into her eyes briefly, but long enough that he was afraid she'd notice his eyes were especially shiny and serious. He pulled her cautiously yet firmly into an embrace, much warmer and drier than at the beach.

Ron only knew how close he came to losing any of it. Now, he was aware Hermione could close herself away from him completely if she wanted, like before, but this time she didn't. Holding her to his chest and feeling her warmth, his heart pounding, he felt the chills racing up and down his spine. He inhaled the fragrance of her hair, and her skin, and wasn't yet ready to let her go.

Ron looked down into her face briefly as she glanced up at him. Her gaze was still too intense for him to look at for long, but he wanted to absorb every bit that he could-after all, for right now at least, those beautiful eyes were all his.

_Everything you've ever owned before was rubbish, pure rubbish, _Ron thought._ But now you own the chance to be with her. Treat it for the precious thing it is, Weasley-for once, you've got something worth keeping._

A smile played around his lips at the thought. She smiled shyly at him, too. But the exchange didn't last very long. Ron and Hermione found that their two smiles meant something closer to the truth when they leaned together once more, and merged them into one.

# # #

"Ouch!" Ron said some time later, almost into her mouth, abruptly changing the mood. The two of them broke away from each other, and as Hermione opened her eyes, she saw fluttering and a little owl body diving behind Ron's head.

Ron started grabbing behind him. "Ooh, you _blasted_owl!- Pig!" he threatened at the fluttering creature. Grasping repeatedly in the air where the little owl had been milliseconds before, Ron was not pleased at being interrupted so rudely. "Someday I'm going to kill that owl!"

"Ron!" Hermione said in mock disapproval, stifling a giggle. "You'll do no such thing! He's just jealous-you didn't even say "hi"!"

The tiny owl landed on the tying post, eyeing his owner carefully, but it was evident he wanted to make peace. Ron finally petted him on the head a bit. "I didn't say hi to you either, and look what you-" he started, teasingly.

"_Stop _right there! If you wish to leave this tower alive, you'll stop now!" Hermione warned.

"He shouldn't be jealous. He's not my type anyway. Now if he had bushy feathers and was quite brilliant at everything he tried except Divination..." Ron rambled, working his way into trouble and hoping she'd take it for the teasing it was.

Hermione slapped him firmly, yet playfully, on the arm and smiled at him. "So, have we completed our testing of your telempathic ability?"

Ron was somewhat surprised that she'd bring up the telempathic experience. He thought it had been wonderful, but it didn't seem like the end had been wonderful for her. As she'd said, he was afraid it would take some time for her to build her trust in him, and be able to let him in deep enough to have a true and complete connection again.

Ron looked pensive and rubbed at his chin. "Hmmm. Not sure. Maybe we should repeat that last test again." Ron put one arm around her shoulder and leaned in, seeing if she'd let him kiss her again. But all he could get to was her cheek.

Hermione looked up towards his face, but the glass dome caught her eye. She gasped, forgetting their game. "Ron, look!" she said, pointing up. "It's already dark!"

Ron didn't look very worried or surprised. They really hadn't been paying much attention to the world until now. "Yep, I reckon we're missing dinner-wonder what we're having? Let me see. Never tried to do telempathy with a house-elf before. Ugh! I'd have to look out of those big baseball eyes of theirs, too-"

"Ron! Let's go! We don't want to have to explain what we've been doing for so long," Hermione said, still not past blushing about it. She quickly reached down and picked up the folder full of graphs on the bench.

"Why? We were just finishing the research, right? Tell 'em that and let 'em wonder," Ron said, suddenly very proud of himself, though Hermione seemed afraid to think too much about why.

Ron was already out the door and gone for a minute when he reappeared to get her. Unaccustomed to thinking about it, he awkwardly reached back and grabbed her hand, pulling her out the door behind him.

Jogging down the corridor (actually, Hermione had to run to keep up with Ron's long legs), they stopped abruptly, dropped hands, and started walking quickly and deliberately. At the junction of the corridor nearing the Great Hall, they'd happened upon Snape, of all people, as he returned from dinner.

"Well, well. Weasley and Granger. I didn't notice you two inside the Hall. What have you been up to?" Snape asked suspiciously. He seemed to feel that finding these two in the corridor alone while everyone else was at dinner, definitely warranted further investigation.

"We were doing some rese-" started Hermione, as planned.

But Ron had thought better of it. Snape might believe it of Hermione, but believe _he _was doing research? On a Sunday, involved enough to miss dinner? Nah, he'd never go for it, even if it was partly true. Ron gave Hermione a meaningful look before interrupting her, and nodded back in the direction of the Owlery.

"We were just sending an owl," he told Snape.

Snape blinked quickly as if he didn't believe them, then sneered. "Sending an owl? And it couldn't wait until after dinner?"

Ron tried to gather up a very serious-sounding voice, even though such things rarely worked on Snape. "Oh no. Important business. Definitely couldn't wait until after dinner." He grabbed Hermione's elbow and pushed her on ahead of him past Snape, hoping to vacate the premises before Snape drummed up some way to take points from Gryffindor. (He also suspected the Potions Master might have seen them holding hands, which was a loss-of-points offense, too-to Snape, anyway). They walked swiftly away, leaving the professor glaring suspiciously after them.

"Honestly, Ron. Sending an owl?" Hermione muttered as they continued to walk briskly.

"Well, I know he wouldn't have believed the truth. Since when have I ever been so involved in my research that I missed dinner?" Ron snorted.

"I suppose you could be right there. But-sending an owl? How urgent could that be?" Hermione asked.

Ron shrugged, then seemed to think of something. "Sometimes very urgent," Ron responded, looking at her sideways, his killer grin beginning to spread across his face. "In fact, want to go send an owl later? I know I do."

Hermione just smiled shyly at him and shook her head (though he had an idea she couldn't resist that grin of his). He watched her as she kept walking straight ahead into the rapidly emptying Great Hall, probably wishing she could do something, _any_thing to hide how deeply she was blushing.

# # #

Returning from Divination the next day, Harry and Ron could hear the wind whistling through the castle corridors as they walked past the arched, leaded glass windows. Still stormy outside, the white, fluffy, pristine snow of winter was now turning into the icy, wet, snow-slop of spring.

Harry had been waiting for Ron to bring up the subject of the telempathy experiment, but he was kept waiting. Ron and Hermione had arrived for dinner when everyone else was leaving the table last evening, and they didn't say a word to one another as they started to eat.

Harry and Ginny could only imagine that the two in question weren't speaking again (Hermione did look awfully flushed when she came in-perhaps they'd been screaming at one another again?). Yet something was peculiar-that horrible tension wasn't crackling and sparking in the air about them as it always seemed to when they were angry. To make matters worse, they swept past everyone in the Gryffindor common room when they returned there together, again without a word, and proceeded straight to the bottom stair landing.

Those who knew them expected the two to bound away toward their own dorm rooms, but anyone glancing their way witnessed yet another strange event. Ron and Hermione stopped for a long moment, smiling oddly.

Harry was a bit puzzled, but it seemed the curiosity was killing Ginny. He and Ginny sat together, squinting into the darkened stairwell, trying just as hard to appear that they weren't looking, as they were trying to see what was really happening. Harry almost thought he saw Ron slip his hidden arm around Hermione and pull her close to him for a moment, but-nah, his eyes must have been deceiving him. Ron wouldn't have done that-he'd never have the nerve, no matter how obvious it was to the rest of the world that he had wanted to do so for a very long time.

Now, Harry felt some harassment was in order.

"So-what happened with Hermione?" Harry asked, trying to sound off-handed, while closely watching his friend's reaction to the loaded question.

Ron's head snapped around, his face blushing furiously. He peered into Harry's face, as if trying to see what Harry actually knew. "What? When?"

Harry noted the depth of the Ron's red glow with amusement. _Yep,_ he thought, trying hard not to smile. _**Something **__definitely happened. _He rephrased the question and spoke more slowly, as if Ron were thick. "Yesterday. The experiment? You never told me-could you make a telempathic connection with her?"

All at once Ron looked relieved. "Oh-oh, that! Yes, actually. It worked quite well and- Harry- I _made_it happen! It was all so amazing!"

There had been so much to think about since yesterday that Harry thought his friend's mind was likely somewhat overloaded trying to keep up with that and class work, too.  
"You _made_the telempathy happen? With Hermione? You did it just once or...?"

"No, we tried some different experiments. You know, like with Ginny: same room, down the hall, like that, and it worked pretty well all the time."

Harry smiled at his friend's triumph, remembering how upset he'd been that he had no control over anything. "Congratulations are in order then! So much for random and uncontrolled-reckon you took care of that."

"Yeah. Yeah- I suppose I did. Took care of loads of things yesterday, actually." Ron smiled to himself proudly for a moment, looking a bit distant. He seemed about to disclose something to Harry, but then appeared to think better of it and changed tacks. "If only that could help me with dementors."

"You know, I've been thinking. We should talk to Dumbledore about that," Harry suggested.

Ron half-groaned. "I don't think I should bother Dumbledore with something as stupid as this when he's got so many other important problems on his hands. I mean, he's such a great wizard, even if he is a little-off - sometimes. I know he'd try and help even if he had to sacrifice something else."

Harry knew the youngest Weasley boy had grown up knowing the Headmaster, his admiration for the man (in spite of his touch of eccentricity), endless.

"I don't think Dumbledore would ever consider anything about dementors 'stupid'. I mean, it's not like you just have nightmares about them. You actually see them in connection with someone, someone you care about. And it keeps repeating itself-it wasn't just once. Then there's Trelawney's prediction-"

"No!" Ron protested forcefully. "No, you're not bringing that up! Everyone thinks she's mad, including me, and I won't have Dumbledore sniggering behind the door about it!"

"Okay, okay then!" Harry laughed. "Then maybe we should go talk to Dumbledore, or I could mention to Trelawney that _she_ought to be the one to go to the Headmaster with it."

"Ruddy blackmailer!" Ron accused loudly.

"Only when necessary," Harry said quietly, smiling.


	9. A Path Untraveled

**~ Chapter 9 ~**  
**A Path Untraveled**

Harry and Ron sat waiting in Albus Dumbledore's office several days later, anxiously bouncing their feet and staring around the room at all the strange and curious things there.

Ron was especially bothered by Fawkes. It was nearing Burning Day, and the scarlet-plumed phoenix was looking a bit peaked, to say the least. His feathers had begun to fall out, leaving a little circular pile around his perch, and his eyes, ordinarily a bright beady black, were dulled and grayish. Though Ron tried to ignore him, he couldn't keep his eyes from returning to the phoenix, who was doing a much better job of ignoring Ron.

"What's wrong with his bird?" Ron whispered to Harry with his lip curled in disgust, never having seen the approach or results of a burning.

"Shhh! Fawkes'll hear you. He understands, you know. It's just part of his cycle," Harry replied nonchalantly, and as if Ron should know this already.

"Oh," Ron said, not wanting to ask more for fear of appearing stupid, though he continued to stare in morbid fascination at the slowly disintegrating bird.

Dumbledore walked in, frowning over a piece of parchment in his hands. He walked over to the desk in front of them, and laid the parchment down without sitting.

"Good afternoon, Harry, Ron," he said, nodding at them in turn. Glancing at Fawkes, Dumbledore appeared to forget they were there and hurried over to the phoenix. He calmly smoothed the ruffled neck feathers under Fawkes' head. "Just about there, old boy?"

The phoenix seemed to use a lot of energy to lift his head, and trilled several beautiful notes in affection for his master.

"Well, if you feel it's time to go, you just head on. I'll be here when you get to the other side, as always," the Headmaster assured him.

Harry didn't seem to think much of this, but Ron was quite sure he didn't want to be there when whatever was supposed to happen, happened.

Dumbledore walked back to his desk and eased into his desk chair. "So have your parents told you about Ireland, Ron?" the Headmaster asked, leaning back and clasping his hands over his beard and chest in front of him.

The events of the past few days had so completely consumed Ron's thoughts, he had all but forgotten that. Ron shuffled in his seat to sit up straighter. "Actually, no, sir. I haven't had a chance to speak with them, or send an owl." Then, Ron was mortified to realize his ears were beginning to get hot, and he knew that meant they were also turning red (as they had almost each and every time he mentioned 'sending an owl' to anyone lately).

If Dumbledore noticed, he was too polite to say. "Well, since the two of you are here, I can do the honors and inform you that you all have permission to go."

Harry and Ron looked at one another, smiling and excited, fidgeting in their seats and wishing they could leave right then.

"That's great news! So Harry's cleared to go?" Ron asked, wanting to make sure he hadn't heard it wrong.

"Yes, he is. And Miss Granger, too, of course. That _was_your request, correct?"

Mention of her name in connection with his request to take her made him feel a bit odd, but all it did outwardly was deepen his face to a red that matched his ears. "Yes, sir, it was," was all he could squeak out.

"Miss Granger's parents have given their consent. They seem to have a lot of faith in the three of you together, along with suitable chaperones. I assured them their faith was not misplaced, so I'm certain you will prove me correct. Oh, and this is for you, Harry." Dumbledore picked up the parchment he had brought in with him, and pulled off a bottom page they hadn't noticed before.

Harry looked at the handwriting hopefully, without actually reading it. His face broke into a huge grin. "Sirius!" was all he could say at first. "Thank you, sir."

"You're quite welcome. Sirius was actually the one I contacted for your permission, Harry, because I knew what a battle I would have on my hands if he thought I let you go somewhere dangerous. He's been out there with the Aurors-they know better than I where it's safe to go or not. It seems the only recent disturbance was far east of here. Some of the Aurors were involved in their usual fact-finding routines and found their magic was tampered with. But it appears to be an isolated incident." Dumbledore fiddled with a small, shiny elongated trinket from his desk as he talked.

Harry hated to ask, and only did so because he hadn't been anywhere except the Dursleys, Hogsmeade, and Hogwarts since the death of Cedric, certainly not as far away as Ireland. "And so there's no mention of Voldemort, or where he might be?"

The Headmaster paused thoughtfully before answering. "Harry, I can't ever guarantee you that you're safe away from here. I wish I could, and I know that's what you want. But even if I was certain, I might not tell you, because as long as he is out there, you need to be ever watchful, ever vigilant. That's not to say you can't have a good time. Just keep your eyes open, and your wits about you. I do know that the last Auror reports about Voldemort located him somewhere in far eastern Europe, and we have no reason to believe that's changed. In fact, we believe that the many Magic-Inhibiting Spells that the Aurors now have in place, along with the atrocious weather, is enough to keep him trapped in one area for a while. But we'll be keeping an even closer watch than usual when you all leave for Ireland." Dumbledore looked weary all of a sudden, even a bit worn like Fawkes, and it was obvious his responsibilities beyond Hogwarts had taken a toll on him.

Ron looked over at Harry, who also looked much older than his fifteen years at that moment. Ron thought about his own trials and how difficult it could be to go on and enjoy life with that kind of darkness constantly in the background. Everyone in the wizarding world was finding how to endure it now, to some degree, but none had to face up to all that Harry did. At least Ron knew that when danger came, Harry had allies he could depend on to the end, if necessary, and Ron was proud to count himself first in line.

"Yes, and he'll be needing that kind of support from you, sooner or later," Dumbledore said quietly, directing his words to Ron.

Ron swung his attention back to Dumbledore. _How did he-?_He quickly checked to see if he felt connected telempathically in any way to the Headmaster, but didn't recognize any of the usual feelings.

"This telempathic ability you've discovered you have-barely recognized it in you myself, some years back. But then, you're the first I've ever known personally," Dumbledore continued.

Ron just stared at him, taking care to close his mouth after his jaw fell during the first sentence. He had no idea Dumbledore knew, or had known-some years back? Ron assumed Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were the only ones that knew it now, but apparently, he had been wrong-was there anyone else that knew long before he did? Ron glanced to see if Harry was reacting to any of this, but he was too preoccupied with reading Sirius' letter to even pay attention.

"You'll have to show me how it works sometime. From the signs when you were younger, I'm assuming you're fairly good at it?" the Headmaster questioned.

"I-don't know, actually. I haven't really done it that much. I mean, it's been less than a week since I've been able to control it a bit." Ron tried to explain, but was still so taken aback by Dumbledore's admission that he had even more trouble finding the words than usual.

"Control it, hmmm? I thought so," the older wizard said knowingly, smiling, his blue eyes sparkling behind his spectacles. He began to shuffle things on his desk, as if the conversation were drawing to a close.

But Ron still hadn't asked for what he needed. "Well, what we've-I've- actually come about, sir, is something altogether different. You see, in the telempathic episodes," (_at least I don't have to explain about those, too_, Ron thought), "I keep sensing dementors, usually with my sister. Then there's something, or someone else I can't find who screams to me and feels so desperately bad. I think only dementors could make someone feel like that, but that person doesn't recognize them for what they are. I don't know if I'm going to have to help Ginny, or this other person, or myself, or no one at all. And Harry's tried to help me with a Patronus, but we've never used a boggart, of course, and I've never had much luck with it, anyway." Ron finally paused, realizing he had blurted all that out in just one breath.

"Ron. Calm yourself. Certainly if there are dementors about, they are not at the door at this moment. Now. It's true there are rumors they were unable to hold some of the dementors at Azkaban, a few of the most restless and rebellious after the Return. To our knowledge, they are operating as renegades and haven't organized to cause any major problems yet. The Aurors have had to clean up a few mishaps. But unless Fudge is covering the Ministry's tracks, and your father doesn't think he would be able to hide it that well, none has yet led to death. Now this makes it most curious as to how they survive, because as we know, they need human souls. Unless they're surviving somehow on a mere promise of future feasting."

Ron shivered. Dumbledore had never spoken to him this way before, as if he were an adult, with the same urgency and depth of information as he'd heard him use with his father, or the professors, or even Harry, lately.

"But I see no reason to be unprepared. None of us is sure what's coming next, and the more each of us knows how to defend ourselves, the better for everyone. So I shall see what I can do regarding a boggart . Quite ingenious of Professor Lupin to come up with that one, I must say-good practice, but not as dangerous by half."

"Thank you, -sir," Ron replied uncertainly.

"Now you say you're having some trouble with a Patronus? It's quite advanced, you know-many adult wizards cannot manage one. Mostly a matter of concentration, really, on one good thought that can overpower the evil in the dementors. Has to be a very strong thought, focused on very strongly. But having known your family for some time, I'm sure you have some memory that is such the essence of goodness, it could do that. Or perhaps, even here at Hogwarts, something has affected you in such a way that you feel courageous enough to take on the world and fill it with well-being."

"That's quite a lot to think," Ron said, a bit overwhelmed.

"At that moment you need your Patronus, you may very well have to come up with such a thought-so no, it won't be easy," Dumbledore warned. "But then, not everyone has other options. You do."

Ron looked bewildered. "I do?"

Dumbledore just smiled. "Ahh. You _haven't_ found the scope of your ability yet, have you? But then, you're not really of age yet. The gift you have is indeed a most rare and extraordinary ability. It could be argued you were given it now for a reason, too. _You_ were meant to have it in this time and place, because _you're_the one who'll know how to use it best. If you wish to learn how to battle dementors, fine. But it could well be, Ron, that your weapon against the Darkness is this."

Ron sat in silence, considering. As he'd told the Headmaster, he hadn't really had time to let it all sink in, and weigh what the telempathic ability could mean, or why _he _was given it _now_. Could it be coincidence that everyone who knew Harry Potter was trying to find a way to protect and defend him, and_ this_ had been thrown in the lap of Harry's best friend? As Harry himself had said, he believed in coincidence less and less each day.

# # #

The message came in the midst of Potions class.

Harry and Hermione were working as partners, carefully counting earwig pincers into their shared cauldron for their Diminishing Potion. The Potion was highly useful for turning trolls into harmless action-figure-sized beings, infinitely easier to manage than the full-grown variety (their odor, unfortunately, still held its potency). After its use, entire armies of house-elves could be put in a large pocket, then returned to full-size once moved to a new home or place of work (though Hermione felt this use was positively insulting, even if it did save on food costs). The potion's possibilities were endless, but its only problem was it had to be potent enough to be sprayed on the skin, for house-elves were not fond of being forced to drink something that made them the size of Bertie Bott's Beans, and, usually, trolls were even less cooperative. That also meant those mixing the potion dared not spill a drop or they themselves would be 'diminished' temporarily.

Ron, skidding in not two seconds before Snape started the class, had barely escaped trouble for being late, but ended up being punished (in his opinion) nonetheless. His partner for the day was Neville Longbottom.

Neville was always nervous in Snape's class, since Snape had made a science of intimidating him since their first year. Neville seemed no happier than Ron at his fortune with partners, since his current red-headed partner seemed to be muttering a swear word or two under his breath at the situation. It only made Neville more jittery.

"Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five,..." Ron counted, awkwardly handling the tiny pincers with his long fingers and grouping them on a piece of parchment to dump into the cauldron once counted.

Neville, trying to help, pushed the small jar of pincers towards Ron so he could get more, but the hem of his robe sleeve caught the curled edge of the parchment and flicked those Ron had just counted all over the table.

"Neville!" Ron complained, trying to scoop the pincers he could find back into a pile before Snape saw and took points for carelessness. Ron felt himself slipping into a bad mood.

"Sorry," Neville apologized, pushing his sleeves back in hopes of avoiding the problem again.

Ron sighed and began counting again. Sixty-three of these seemed like a lot for one Diminishing Potion. "Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-"

A whoosh of wings and a burst of air sent Ron's counted pincers flying again, as a messenger owl swooped through the dungeon with a delivery. The owls usually hated the dungeon, and it was clear this one intended to stay no longer than necessary.

Ron closed his eyes in frustration and began to swear more, quite audibly now, until he heard Hermione's voice.

"Ron-stop! And it's for you! Watch out!"

Ron opened his eyes just in time to see a note fluttering quickly downward, headed straight for their steaming cauldron. He flung his body forward and reached his long arm out over the bubbling liquid, feeling the steam scald his elbow. But it was worth the effort, because he caught the note before it dropped in and spoiled the potion.

Temporarily forgetting the scattered pincers, he opened the note hurriedly.

_Mr. Weasley,  
I have made the arrangements we discussed earlier. Please arrive at the  
Potions classroom at eight o'clock this evening. Professor Snape has generously  
agreed to be available in his office there and act as the responsible party since the boggart cannot be released to students of any age without supervision.  
See him with any questions regarding this communication. Good luck with your  
work.  
Sincerely,  
Prof. Dumbledore_

"Regarding this evening, Weasley?" Snape had arrived over Ron's shoulder while he had been reading. "It _can_ be inconvenient when you owe the Headmaster favors that must be repaid," he sighed, crossing his arms in front of him. "If nothing else, it should be most interesting to see the end result. Assuming you ever get this potion prepared correctly so you're not finishing _that_this evening instead." With a parting sneer, Snape sauntered over to praise Malfoy's "flawless potion".

Ron just stood staring at the note with his mouth pulled into a thin, tense line. _Perfect, just perfect,_ he thought. _Snape! Naturally, the first person I want to make a fool of myself in front of. _Ron folded the note and quickly shoved it into his robes. He began working feverishly on completing the potion, ordering Neville out of his way and muttering about how he wanted to get done and be out of there as soon as possible.

Harry and Hermione kept shooting glances towards him, trying to catch his eye, but he kept his attention on his work. Though Harry had some idea what was in the note (and passed that information on to Hermione), he had no idea about Snape's involvement. All that the two of them knew was that Ron was obviously furious, and wanted to be left alone.

# # #

It was eight o'clock and the second time that day they had entered the Potions lab in the dungeons.

Earlier, after class (and after what they felt was sufficient "cool-down" time for Ron), Harry and Hermione had approached him in the common room. He had explained the note (still somewhat uncomfortable discussing his own inabilities in front of Hermione) and complained heartily about his misfortune in having Snape there to witness it all.

Harry agreed with him about his turn of luck, but Hermione explained it all away as the lack of a decent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It was true that since the end of their fourth year, the faculty had simply been taking turns at covering the Defense Against the Dark Arts class until a suitable teacher could be found. Aside from Dumbledore and possibly McGonagall, who better to help in a Dark Arts pinch than Snape? Everyone knew he was well-skilled (possibly too much so) in that area.

"Certainly," Hermione had commented, "you'd rather have him there than Professor Sprout, should things get out of hand."

But Ron wasn't so sure. He was even a bit concerned that Snape might try and complicate things on purpose.

Ron had asked Harry to come that evening since he had more experience than anyone else he knew. He also made a request of Ginny since he thought that he might need her to create a dementor from the boggart. It was, after all, _not_that he was deathly afraid of dementors (though he thought maybe he ought to be), but that he wouldn't be able to stop one from attacking Ginny.

Preparing to leave the common room with the two of them, Ron had hoped to be gone before Hermione returned from the library. He really wasn't interested in making a fool of himself in front of her, either. But, as his luck was running that day, she had walked up so close behind him when he turned to head for the portrait hole, he nearly knocked her over and had to grab her arm to help her keep her balance.

"You know, Hermione, if you're going to do that, we either need to get you bells for your shoes or a hard hat," Ron warned.

"Hi to you, too," she said, smiling up at him and ignoring his sarcasm. "Are you going now?"

Ron grimaced inside._ Don't look at her smile,_he told himself. "Yeah."

"Who's going? Just Harry and Ginny?"

"Well- yeah. I thought you were working."

"Just finished. I tried to hurry, just in case-"Hermione began to sense the hesitation in him. Her smile faded, along with the excitement in her eyes. "But I can stay here, if you'd rather I didn't go..."

Ron saw her disappointment and paused, thinking._ What the hell. _"Oh-okay. But, laugh at me- and I can't be responsible for what happens to you."

"Would I do that? Well- not out loud, anyway," she teased, her eyes sparkling again. Moments later, waiting behind Ginny and Harry to climb out the portrait hole, she leaned back on Ron inconspicuously for a minute or so, reaching behind her to grab his hand in between them.

What Ron really wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and Apparate to somewhere they could be alone together (if they were of age for either). But what he settled for was to squeeze her hand and lean back into her, feeling the warmth between them make tingles all over him. He also knew he felt one whole lot better about himself and tonight now that she was going. _What in the world made me think I didn't want her to go, anyway?_he thought.

So the four of them sat waiting for Snape to swoop into the dungeon, as he always did. Ron was pacing the room nervously.

Just as they were beginning to wonder if the Potions Master had forgotten them, Dumbledore stepped calmly through the door, carrying a large wooden box with a hinged door on top.

"Well, it seems we're all here now. Professor Snape sends his apologies, but something has come up for him, and since I was unexpectedly free for several hours, I'm afraid you'll just have to do with me," the Headmaster explained.

Ron looked rather like a man who had been pardoned at the gallows' steps. A huge sigh of relief escaped from him, and he almost smiled, though it was easy to tell his nerves were still seriously on edge.

Setting the box on the floor near the front of the room, Dumbledore turned to the four of them. "This one seems to be a ripe old fellow. Captured by the house-elves in the food pantry nearest the stairs. Of course, with their magic, they had no trouble controlling him there, but he was an annoyance. Once we mentioned that some students needed to use him, one being Harry Potter, there was a certain house-elf who insisted on making the capture himself," Dumbledore explained.

Harry and Hermione looked at one another. "Dobby," they said at once.

"As I've told you, boggarts are not to be released with students alone. But , I think with this group, a partial exception can be made," the Headmaster paused to glance at Ginny. He looked nostalgic. "Hard to believe little Ginny Weasley's already a fourth year. Time does slip by. Ah, well. I think we'll be fine to let you all work in here with the boggart while I catch up on some correspondence in Professor Snape's office. Let me know if you have any difficulties you can't handle. Any last minute questions?"

The four students looked at one another and shook their heads. They were, perhaps, a little apprehensive about tackling the boggart on their own, but then they all returned their gaze to Dumbledore. Walking by him on his way to Snape's office, the Headmaster turned to the older Weasley in the room and spoke softly.

"Ron, I know this was your request. I truly hope you find what you need to know. Remember, for the Patronus, focus on that strong good thought. Yet be open to other paths. Following someone else's path and thinking it's right, even when it's possible, may be ten times the difficulty of finding, and taking, your own. Don't force it." With that, Dumbledore crossed the dungeon and stepped into Snape's office, leaving the door ajar by several inches.

"What did he say?" asked Ginny quietly.

"'I'm not completely sure," Ron answered slowly. "I think I understood it, but I don't think I could explain it."

"I hate it when he says things like that," Harry said. "What's worse is, later on you'll think back and realize he was perfectly clear and absolutely spot on. Makes you feel like you're totally thick."

"Great. Something else to look forward to," Ron said. He turned toward the box at the front. "So-shall we do it and get it done? If I think about it too much, I might just take him back to play with the house-elves some more."

Harry, Hermione, and Ginny positioned themselves back and away from where the hinged box was placed. Ron checked their positions, then turned to the box and pointed his wand at the latch.

He took a deep breath and exhaled. _"Alohomora!" _The latch broke loose and the lid swung open.

All four watched the box expectantly, but nothing happened. They waited another few moments, wondering if Dobby had really captured anything at all. Ron's impatience got the best of him. He dropped his wand hand down a bit and started for the box to have a look inside. As he came within fifteen feet or so, three enormous, long, hairy, banded insect legs, as tall at the top as he was, pushed out and over the edge, finally reaching the floor and feeling about next to Ron's feet for a place to grip and pull the rest of its body out.

Though Ron was a bit pale looking at the legs of what was obviously a gigantic spider, he also seemed a bit irritated. "I knew that was going to happen," he complained, gritting his teeth on the last words, then muttering a curse and pointing his wand. The legs flinched when hit by orange sparks, then pulled back into the box, so the four students were left looking at nothing but the four sides and a hole on top again.

"Ginny-get up here-next to me," Ron told his sister. She complied quickly while Harry and Hermione looked on from their seats at two of the Potions tables.

Facing the box together, they didn't have to wait much longer for the point of a black hood to appear. As the rest of a black-robed body oozed out, staring menacingly toward them, Ginny's face began to register fear a bit, and Ron instinctively moved in front of her. From his vantage point he noted that what he could see of a body inside the robe was not gray and scaly like a typical dementor, but protruding where hands and feet should be were long, hairy, banded spider feet. The boggart had formed itself into something even more hideous than either the spider or the dementor on its own, and truly a creation of the ultimate fear in Ron's mind. Yet he could also see there was not a spider's face, but the shadowy form of a dementor's, with it's terrible elongated mouth opening, ready to use its horrifying 'Dementor's Kiss' to suck the soul from anyone unfortunate enough to happen by. And this time, as in the dream, the kiss would be meant for Ginny.

Having observed all this in a millisecond, Ron now knew he needed to focus on his good thought to create his Patronus. His mind was working like clockwork this time-he knew what he had to do and when to do it. Then from somewhere came doubt-a tiny pore-sized opening through which darkness started to drip, then trickle, then pour. He knew he had to fight it. Good thought. Making the Quidditch team-saving the goals, winning the games. Point the wand. "_Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!..._"

From the end of his wand came a wisp of something silvery white. It soon grew to double the length of the wand, but then it began to fade.

Ron felt the boggart/dementor's despair leaking into him. He was doubting himself. What made him think he could do this? _Just give up_, something told him.

He looked at Ginny's face. She was trying to be brave for him, to help him, but the fear in her face made him recall when she was ten, eight, even five years old. It had been so long since he'd seen her as a frightened little girl, but the boggart/dementor was working to reduce her to that again. The gruesome being sensed her fear and began to move her way.

_No! _Ron thought. _No! I'm not giving in! I can do this! _Good thought. Hermione-connecting with Hermione - holding Hermione-kissing Hermione. Point the wand. _"Expecto Patronum!..."  
_  
This time the silvery wisp from Ron's wand began to look like some animal caught inside a shimmering, luminescent bag, that was fighting to escape. It was more solid, it tried to take form, beginning to show a powerful upper body, a proud head held high, arms-no- long, impressive, elegant wings- beginning to stretch... The boggart began to shy away from the emerging figure.

Ron was focused, amazed at what was growing in front of him-for about thirty seconds. Then he thought he saw more dementors, many more of them. He shook his head to clear it. His _eyes_ saw only one hooded figure-why did his _mind_see so many more? His forming Patronus began to waver a bit.

The boggart/dementor sensed a weak point. It was away from the box now and veering toward Ginny.

Harry and Hermione had been watching all this intently. Ron's second try at the Patronus seemed to be going well- but then something had gone very wrong. Harry could see the boggart's intended path leading toward Ginny and jumped to his feet, wand ready.

Hermione reached out a hand on his arm to hold her worried friend back. "Let him try," she whispered, pleading.

Harry didn't like it, but he appeared to understand her reasoning. He remained standing, but stayed where he was. Luckily, the boggart/dementor was still wary enough of Ron and his Patronus that he was moving very, very slowly.

Ron could see the group of them in his mind, eight, ten dementors, all in a circle, all surrounding someone, someone smaller than the black-cloaked bodies, someone human. Wide, dark eyes, petrified with hopelessness and fear, appeared between the shoulders of the dementors in the circle as they wavered about, the eyes trying to break through, to be seen, to plead for help from someone, from _him_. Even though he knew Ginny was right here with him, with the boggart in the room, those in Ron's mind were real dementors, and they were surrounding...who?...It had to be Ginny. Even though he didn't understand how it all fit together, he knew it was more important to get her away from the real dementors in his mind-the boggart was only an annoyance.

In the meantime, the boggart had closed the gap between himself, Ron, and Ginny by half. Both Harry and Hermione were on their feet now, trying to hold back, but time was running out.

"Ron," Harry said gently, knowing his best friend was concentrating. "The boggart."

Ron wasn't even looking at the shapeshifter. He appeared to be looking in a completely different direction, and was focused on something there. This only encouraged the hooded figure.

"Ron. _Do_something," Hermione said quietly, but intensely. When there was no immediate response, she and Harry looked at one another, silently agreeing it was time to move in.

A moment later, Ron finally seemed to notice the boggart was still in the room, but it didn't appear he would be able to do anything about it. His Patronus had disappeared completely now, and he didn't even raise his wand.

Harry and Hermione looked worried about Ron, but there were more pressing problems at hand. As they neared Ginny, the dementor, and their seemingly helpless friend with wands raised, something hit them both. A power surge, like an invisible beam, shot through their minds from somewhere, first through Ginny, then through Hermione, and finally, after a moment, through Harry's mind. Hermione looked at Ron to see him staring back at them all intently, then returning to whatever had distracted him earlier. Next, Hermione looked at the boggart, as did Harry and Ginny.

The boggart turned to Ginny and with a loud crack, turned into a typical dementor, with its gray scaly hands hidden in its sleeves. But then, almost immediately, it turned to face Hermione.

_Crack._The dementor became Professor McGonagall walking toward Hermione with what appeared to be expulsion papers from Hogwarts. Hermione gasped in spite of herself. Then the dementor was distracted by Harry.

_Crack._McGonagall turned into the image of Voldemort, looking as only Harry knew him when You-Know-Who emerged from the fire and regained his own body again. Harry reached for his scar to try and rub away the stinging.

_Crack! Crack! __**Crack! **_The boggart spent a minute going from one image to the next in confusion-somehow it was reacting to all of their fears combined at once instead of just one at a time.

_Crack. _The boggart became a frail little wisp of a demon. Then he promptly exploded and disappeared. It had taken only seconds to vanquish him since they had felt the laser-like presence in their minds.

When Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were finally able to concentrate on something besides the boggart, they looked back toward Ron, who was obviously engrossed with his own thoughts. He was muttering under his breath, looking away from them, elbows on the back of Snape's podium, hunched over and holding his head in his hands.

Looking as if they hoped this whole issue hadn't pushed him beyond the brink of sanity, they glanced at one another, but held back to watch him for a moment in silence.

Ron was, indeed, involved in a far more serious battle within his mind. He could finally see clearly the person hemmed in by the dementors. It wasn't Ginny- but someone else desperate, and pain-filled, and hopeless.

It was her. The one who had been screaming, the one who was being forced to do something horrible and terrifying against her will, the one who was beginning to believe that ending her own life would be better than having to help end someone else's.

Ron didn't understand where she was, he still didn't recognize what he could see of her face with her black hair and dark, somber eyes. She was young, pale, and so deathly afraid. He heard a noise in the background he couldn't fully recognize. Immediately, he felt her mentally crippling pain. He had to help her somehow. She was convinced she was a bad person, meant to do evil, he could feel it. But somehow Ron knew that was wrong, too. If she had given in to evil, she would only be numb-the pain came from fighting it. There was good left in her, but her strength was waning.

_*Hold on!*_ he told her through the connection. _*I don't know where you are, but I'll try and find you. Fight them, be strong!*_

_*What do they want with me? Why won't they leave me alone?*_a reply came back to him in a strange mental voice.

_*I don't know. I don't have any answers for you yet. But I know the pain you feel is because you're trying to push their evil away. I think I can help you be strong. Use my strength until I can find you and help you.*_ _Can I even do that? _Ron asked himself.

_*But who are you? My mind is crumbling. I'm almost certain my sanity is, too. I don't know how much longer I can try to go on. What if they make me hurt someone? *_

*Wait-try and hold onto my mind and I'll try and find where you are so I can get back to help-*

Through the connection, Ron felt a wavering in her darkness, felt the dementors on guard weakened a bit by the tiny burst of hope he'd given her. He thought she might make it till he found her, wherever she was, if he could just give her enough strength. And those were the last things the connection told him. It ended abruptly, and so did his chance to find the path to her.

Ron straightened up quietly, took two shaky steps toward a nearby chair, and dropped into it, exhausted.

Harry and Ginny could tell that whatever had happened with Ron was over. They rushed to him, checking to see if he was okay.

But to their surprise, Hermione got there before them, running behind Ron's chair and throwing her arms around his neck, leaning down and pressing her cheek to his. She refused to let go and Ron found the strength to reach his hand up to her arms as they wrapped tightly around him. Ron could feel the warmth and strength returning to him just by her presence.

After a few minutes, Hermione realized what she was doing and remembered they weren't alone. She released her hold on Ron's neck and straightened up slowly, her face hot and blushing. But now it was Ron who refused to let go, grabbing and holding her hand in place on his shoulder. It simply felt too important to touch her right now, no matter who was there or what they were thinking

Ron, still dazed, looked wearily around the room. "The boggart? It's gone, isn't it? I tried-" His voice wouldn't go on.

"_You_did that?" Ginny asked, incredulous.

"I think so," Ron replied slowly. "What happened, anyway?"

Harry had been standing there, lost in thought once he found Ron was all right, ignoring the conversation around him. He began to speak, half to himself, as he tried to sort out what he'd just seen. "That was weird. I felt this - presence - come into my mind and sort of-pull it a bit. Then the boggart started changing into all these different forms-confused, I think. It finally exploded, then whatever it was, left my mind?"

"Hmm." Ron sounded a bit surprised, looking at Harry, but appearing unable to focus his gaze. Then he managed a very tired little smile. "What do you know? Sounds like it worked."

"What?" Harry asked , completely baffled. "What worked?"

"I think perhaps I can help you out on this, Harry," Hermione offered slowly, as the realization came upon her. "That 'presence' in your mind-did you recognize it at all?"

Harry looked perplexed. "Recognize it?" He thought a moment. "No, not really. But I wasn't upset about it or anything. Didn't seem like it was going to hurt me in any way. It was just weird. Why?"

Ginny was catching on. She'd remembered the feeling from before. "Did you imagine, if it had a body, it would be tall and have red hair and a really foul mouth?"

Ron found the strength to sneer up at Ginny.

Harry pointed at Ron with a question on his face. Hermione and Ginny nodded.

"How did he-?" Harry asked, too amazed to form the whole thought.

"Yeah-and you were a bloody pain to find in a hurry, too," Ron complained to Harry.

The fourth person to see it all had been standing in the office doorway, just observing. Earlier, Harry's and Hermione's tense words to Ron about the boggart had attracted Dumbledore's attention and he had stepped to the door to see what was happening, ready to jump in if necessary. But with this group, he'd never appeared to be really worried.

The Headmaster was, indeed, struck with what he saw firsthand of Ron's telempathic episode. Walking to join the four students, he looked down at Ron first.

"Certainly impressive, Mr. Weasley. And quite effective, too. "

Hermione saw Dumbledore glance at her hand on Ron's shoulder and she started to pull it away, looking embarrassed and unsure if it was okay in front of the Headmaster. Dumbledore smiled at her understandingly, making a little gesture to leave her hand in place if Ron wanted it there.

"It looked like you were having some luck with your Patronus. You must have discovered a good strong thought to develop it," Dumbledore began, glancing back at Hermione again.

Ron's ears turned red. "But I was getting tired trying to hold it, because the boggart, or dementor, or whatever, kept wanting to make me think I couldn't do it. Then, I was just about to push hard with my good thought again, and something else happened."

"Something else?" Dumbledore looked like he might have had an idea about this already, but the other three perked up their ears-perhaps this was the missing piece in their puzzle.

"Yeah. I think I found the person I told you about before- the one who was screaming? When I tried to make the boggart become a dementor, real dementors came into my mind, like I was calling _them_. Anyway, this girl was surrounded by them, being held captive. She's terrified- thinks she's going crazy. I think she's even considering suicide. But what was really weird was that she didn't know what the dementors were-she feels like they're just something her mind made up," Ron explained.

"Was she too young to know, perhaps?" Dumbledore asked, obviously interested in the telempathic experience itself, but beginning to look a bit concerned with the talk of dementors and someone who didn't recognize them.

Ron tried to recall her face. "No...No...She had to be around our age," indicating his friends around him, "maybe a little older. But the connection cut off before I could find her, so I don't even know the way back."

"She's come to you before, Ron, and now again. I have a feeling she'll return. Perhaps it is not yet time," Dumbledore stated. "However, there was one revelation tonight. Seems you did away with our boggart without the use of a Patronus."

Ron smiled again, a bit prouder now. "Yeah, I reckon I did."

"What made you think of linking their fears, anyway?" the Headmaster questioned.

"I really don't have the foggiest idea. To me, it just seemed like the obvious thing to do. I didn't have time to explain myself and I wanted to make sure the boggart didn't hurt Ginny. So I remembered from Defense Against the Dark Arts class about confusing the boggart till he shapeshifts himself to death. I just borrowed their fears for a few minutes to keep him busy, then went back to that girl. "

Ron seemed to surprise himself at all that he'd done, trying to remember how he'd shot a telempathic beam from one friend's mind to another's, gathering their fears. But in the aftermath of the whole thing, it seemed a bit far-fetched. He looked uncertain. "I think that's what I did. It all happened so fast..."

Hermione, Harry, and Ginny were all staring at Ron. "You... tied all our minds together?" Hermione asked, astonished.

"Yeah. Just for a few minutes. You were all worried, so it was pretty easy-well, except for finding Harry. And I already had the connection with the girl going, so I had to get back. I was there with the three of you for a minute, then I just had to leave you all tied together to finish him."

Ginny was looking toward Harry with a very strange expression on her face. "We're not still..."

Ron snorted as if she should know better. " 'Course not."

"So then, Ron, you sustained the connection with the girl at the same time you linked fears with your friends to destroy the boggart?" Dumbledore asked, stroking his beard.

"Yeah, I think so. I'm not very sure of what I'm doing here at all, you know. Things just sort of happen, then I jump in, and hope for the best. At least I've had a lot of experience with _that _in my life." Ron smiled briefly at Harry.

Dumbledore paused a moment, appearing somewhat surprised at what Ron was telling him, but feeling compelled to tell Ron something as well. "It's unlikely you will ever be in complete control of any situation you're in, Ron. Just remember in using your ability, that the emotions you see and feel _are_the most powerful form of magic. Love can heal, and mend, it can raise someone to greatness and make them better than they could ever be without it. Hate, on the other hand, can turn a person's ambitions to dust, change them to nothing, rip people's minds and hearts away from them. Muggles and magical folk alike fall prey to the magic of emotion-you must always treat it with respect."

"Is that why telempaths aren't always wizards or witches?" Ron asked.

"Probably. A Muggle so well-versed in emotion and mind control could be a telempath. But they would only be an effective one if they were open to trusting their own magic a bit, even as a Muggle," the Headmaster stated.

Ron seemed satisfied with Dumbledore's answers, but was so weary he was becoming anxious to leave. "Okay, so, Ginny, aren't you the one who volunteered to carry me back to the common room?" He acted a bit more lively than immediately after the episode, but it still appeared he'd be unable to get himself to Gryffindor Tower on his own accord.

Ron looked at the empty box the boggart had arrived in. He knew destroying a real dementor would require the use of a Patronus, most likely, instead of a mind trick, but he _did_ feel more confident in his own abilities now. _Maybe I don't need a Patronus quite so desperately, after all, _he thought.

Ginny just wrinkled her nose, made a face at Ron, and walked away in answer to her brother's question. Harry picked up the boggart's box to give to Dumbledore as the Headmaster went to collect his things in Snape's office, then he and Hermione began to walk toward the door as well.

"Hey," said Ron, noticing and struggling to his feet from the chair. "Hey! Okay, so just leave the bloke here who saved you from the deadly boggart!" he called at their backs with thick sarcasm. "It's okay, I'm sure I'll make it back somehow. If not, I can just sleep out in the hallway-in the cold-no problem. Harry can just leave my books on the floor by my head in the morning on his way to class."

Harry and Hermione didn't stop completely or turn around, just to irritate their woeful friend, but Ron could easily see them slow down on purpose. He stretched his long legs to stride up quickly behind them, flung a long arm over them on either side, then pushed himself in between. It appeared he might get some help walking back after all.

_Yep,_ Ron thought contentedly, _Dumbledore was right about finding and following your own path- just like Harry said._


	10. At the Edge

**~ Chapter 10 ~  
At The Edge**

After trying to count it herself several times, Valeria held out the small wad of unfamiliar bills Captain Flaherty had given her to the shopkeeper.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you need of this," she said, hoping the older woman was trustworthy, yet having no choice but to trust her.

The shopkeeper, feeling awkward as well, pulled three bills from the thin stack and laid them on top of the cash register drawer, counting out coins to return to Valeria along with the other bills the girl had given her. "So, you've been in town how long, dear?"

The young girl knew she would have to answer or cause even more suspicion about herself, but she was determined to let on as little as possible about her reasons for being here. "Just two days."

"Ahhh-welcome- and can I help yeh with where to find anything else in town?" the shopkeeper offered, as she carefully placed the grocery items in a bag.

"No. I think I'm okay now. I'll just ask my uncle if I need to know anything else," Valeria lied. She knew it would seem odd to the townspeople if they knew she was staying here alone.

"I don't recall yeh gave me his name," the old woman pressed on.

_That's because I didn't ,_Valeria thought. "Well, you probably wouldn't know him. He's been here a very short time as well. Plus he usually brings his supplies when he flies in. He just sent me for a few things he forgot. Thank you," Valeria said quickly to end the conversation. She gathered her bags and set off through the door, hoping her responses had been enough to keep the town's curious minds at bay, for she knew the information would not stop here. She found herself hoping that taking the chance to buy supplies was worth it. Valeria wasn't even sure she'd end up using them, in case she decided to...but she was still trying to push those thoughts away.

The day was cold and foggy, the low-lying clouds settled in clumps over the rolling green hills. Valeria imagined it was quite colorful here in Ireland when the sun was out and it was warmer, maybe later in the spring. She tried to imagine wildflowers on the hills and birds singing. But then she thought of how much she missed days like that spent with Abuelita, and it made her sad.

The muddy earth sucked at the soles of her shoes as she walked, and she swung the plastic grocery bags at her side by the handles. It was still a long walk to the deserted cottage where she had been staying. Noticing several old, rusty biplanes sitting among the growing weeds at the side of the road, she soon passed the makeshift airfield she'd seen before, where her pretend 'uncle' landed his plane.

Valeria wasn't even sure what had led her to this place. She supposed it was the Muertos, even though she'd been brought here in full consciousness, so she could find her way back. She'd headed north from the port near Shannon, then through the little town of Heathersby where she'd just made her purchase.

Valeria walked several miles north of town, then headed toward the ocean. In the distance, she could see the deteriorated, yet huge walls of the castle. Enormous pieces of stone had fallen from the walls with age, yet the once-magnificent building was still regal and impressive, proud to be standing to the end. No one lived there now, of course, and probably had not done so for centuries.

The castle was built into a hillside, most of it's view facing due south, the direction from which the enemies of its time would have come. Blocked from the ocean by another low hill, its original occupants were fairly well protected by steep, craggy cliffs that fell to the water some one hundred feet below. But to be certain of no attack by sea, a lookout had been placed at the edge of the castle lands atop the grand cliffs. A small stone cottage had been built there of the same strong materials as the great castle, but being of smaller proportion, it withstood the years well. It was here Valeria was staying, until the Muertos devised a plan to lure the Potter boy to join her.

Turning from the main road, Valeria scanned ahead and behind her. She had to be certain no one saw her out in the open heading for, or entering, the little stone house. Another ten-minutes walk across the rutted, rocky meadow, and she would be there.

As she passed the castle, she gasped, stopped, and turned to stare. From the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw something in the window, a movement, a color, a shape at odds with the solid black she could see in all the others. She wondered if it could have been a reflection, but there was no glass to reflect, and no sunshine today could pierce the fog to reflect it.

She froze, studying the castle for a minute or two, hoping there was no one watching her cross the meadow who would report back to the townspeople. But nothing else appeared. Then, a few moments later, a raven, squawking loudly, took flight from another window and Valeria finally took a breath. Of course. It had been just a bird, probably nesting in the dry warmth of one of the few castle rooms still intact. Valeria walked the rest of the way quickly, nonetheless.

Having taken her by surprise, the raven incident had made her a bit restless and edgy. She slipped inside the cottage just as she began to feel nauseous and dizzy, knowing she might as well lie down and wait. They were coming.

Valeria stretched out on the small bed against the wall. Apparently, the last people to reside here had left quickly, which conveniently left behind some old, dusty, tattered furniture. It had taken a few hours to beat enough of the dust away that she could at least survive without gagging on it every time she moved something. _It might even be nice to live here,_ she thought, _if one had the will to live._

The thought still took her by surprise each time it came, though it came so often now. She used to love to be alive and fought to stay that way, even when her problems set the odds against her. A smile and hug from Abuelita, a lovely sunny day, an unknown puppy in the street wagging his tail after her: small things, but they affirmed her belief that life was good, and that it was definitely worth living.

But the last year had taken a horrifying toll. Valeria had begun to believe more and more that there was no reason for her existence, except to do evil to this boy called Potter. It had become almost impossible to fight the suicidal thoughts. Her pain and dark depressions were unbearable. She felt her grandmother would be better off without her, and there was no one else to care. And she was certain evil, or insanity, or both, were now a part of her; they fed upon her ravenously.

The cliffs called to her now, and she wondered if the Muertos had brought her here for that reason. Certainly no one would survive a fall from there. With nothing else to occupy her thoughts, her mind rotated on the possibility that the cliffs would be their weapon of choice to do away with her, or Potter, or both of them together. One step, or one push, and the deed would be done.

The beings invaded her mind so forcefully this time, she felt herself convulse with the black despair and fear. The long, tedious instructions the Muertos gave told her Potter would be coming soon, that she did not have much longer to wait. She was told how to find him, what to say once she did, how to use someone else to trick Potter into coming to her here. Though Tom was not there, his echoes were in the background of their lesson- "be my eyes, be my eyes...".

It was a very long one, this session, and she was tired when she returned to consciousness. But even through the exhaustion, she shot immediately from the bed, and ran outside, where the day had turned to darkness now.

Retching until she could scarcely breathe, she finally sat straight from her crouched, kneeling position to get some air. Her mind thought back to what they'd said. The instructions so explicitly painted a picture of how she was to cause Potter's death, her reaction was not only mental, but physical. How she hated them still, but she was so weary from the battle.

That person, whom she'd somehow reached in her mind-he'd said to hang on, said the pain was from fighting the evil. But it just hurt so badly. He wanted to give her hope, he said to use his strength. She tried to visualize what he was like-his voice was fairly deep-probably tall, and he felt strong within himself, and comforting. But where had he gone-how was it possible he could help her anyway? It was just the insanity again.

Hearing the crashing waves on the rocky cliffs below, Valeria slowly and deliberately walked to the very edge. It was so foggy, it was impossible to see the bottom, though she could hear the breakers even louder from here. _It wouldn't be too hard to do, _she thought. _You couldn't even see the cliff bottom racing up to meet you, just falling and falling through misty fog... _

Whoever Potter was and however much Tom hated him, the boy with the scar might have a fighting chance if she weren't here to lure him. At the very least, she wouldn't be the one who had to do it. Her pulse was racing, she knew she'd have to reach deep inside to find the courage-or was it just the ultimate cowardice? Though her legs felt like lead, she managed to lift one foot from the ground and lean forward toward the edge. _It wouldn't be too hard to do..._


	11. Quidditch Trials

**~ Chapter 11 ~  
Quidditch Trials**

"He has the what?"

Ron asked again as he, Harry, and Hermione stood grouped in front of the hearth in McGonagall's office, focused on the heads of Arthur and Molly Weasley in the fire.

"Charlie has the fumps, and so does Lorraine, the poor dears. Feet swelled up to more than twice their size. They can't even get around very well. I do hope they'll be able to get themselves something to eat." Mrs. Weasley was even more fretful than usual any time one of her children was ill, even once the children were adults. But when they were ill and so far away, nothing would appease her but an Official Bill of Good Health from the Mistress of Wizard Medicine herself.

"Molly, my dear, it's just a childhood disease they came down with as adults. They'll survive, I promise," Mr. Weasley said encouragingly, then turned back to Ron. "So, son, the point is, Charlie and Lorraine will be fine, but they won't be able to take you to Ireland on holiday as planned. The fumps will last at least another week, and the match is in three days-"

"But, Dad, everything's all set up! Harry's even allowed to go!" Ron protested, beginning to panic.

"Hold on-hold on-let me finish. Now, your mother and I had a long talk about this-but we do have some concerns-"

"Can't we go by ourselves? Just the three of us?" Ron asked impatiently, interrupting again.

"No, Ron. Will you let your father finish?" Mrs. Weasley demanded tersely, moving easily from fretful to irritated, thanks to Ron's rudeness.

Ron backed down and stood quietly. He knew how far to push his mum. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Now," Mr. Weasley began again. "We considered all the options to try and make this work for you. We know it's important for your sixteenth and all, plus Professor Dumbledore told us you've been doing a fine job dealing with this telempath situation. We're very proud of you, Ron, and think you should have this. But- we can't let you go on your own- the three of you aren't even of age to be issued a Portkey yet. We've spoken to the only two who _are_old enough and are free at this late notice to go with you."

"Threatened to hex them to Australia and back if they don't behave, is more like it," Mrs. Weasley put in under her breath.

Suddenly, the office door, which had been closed, burst open, and a great deal of noise and movement rushed into the room at once. Professor McGonagall, who had consented to the Weasleys using her office fireplace for their private conversation, had been working at her desk, and was startled to her feet.

"Did they tell you yet?" George called to Ron, Harry, and Hermione excitedly.

"Isn't it _great _?" Fred almost shouted, bounding up to the group near the fire behind his twin.

"Gentlemen!" Professor McGonagall said sternly. "I'll thank you to _knock_ at my office door any time it is closed in the future, or points will be taken-from seventh years in my own house, _if necessary _!"

"Oh, sorry, Professor," George said quietly, calming immediately.

Fred, however, was more fearful of who he saw before him than of Professor McGonagall. He held out his arm in front of his twin to stop him from further celebration. "George," he hissed under his breath. "George, they're still here! Act _responsible _!"

"Oh, hi, Mum," George said politely, with as mature a voice as he could muster.

"Hello, Dad," Fred said, trying to sound as if he were closer to thirty-five than eighteen.

Arthur and Molly Weasley were apparently able to hear the commotion in the room, but found themselves unable to see its cause due to the glow of the fire. Mrs. Weasley had a good guess as to who was to blame.

"That better _not_have been you two," she growled at the twins.

The twins looked behind them, as if someone else was there. "Oh, no. Not really. Some ruddy bigmouths in the corridor, they have _no _respect," Fred assured. George nodded in agreement.

Ron was in shock. "You've got to be kidding! You're sending _these two_ to look after _us _?" he said, flicking his thumb at his two older brothers. "Oh, fine-why not send Pig, and maybe a garden gnome or two to balance out the party? Then we'd have some real guidance aboard!" he said sarcastically, toning down to make his appeal. "Dad, Mum, it'd be better to send us on our own. Then we won't have to baby-sit them, too." Ron flinched as Fred kicked him in the leg from behind.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley almost seemed prepared to agree with Ron, but it was Mrs. Weasley who spoke. "Well, it will be better for a bigger group of you to go, anyway. You'll stay together _at all times_, and Fred and George know what there'll be to pay if there's any fooling about- don't you, boys?" Molly Weasley stared directly at the twins with a look withering enough to melt sheet metal.

"Now-Hermione, dear?" Mrs. Weasley said in a much sweeter voice, peering through the flames.

"Here I am, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, moving to the front of the group.

"I'm sorry Lorraine couldn't go with you. She's such a lovely girl, and-well, now you'll be the only girl in the group. We've had the Portkey charmed so that you'll leave early in the morning and return in the evening, so there won't be rooming arrangements to worry about. We've explained what happened with Charlie and Lorraine to your parents, and they feel it will still be all right for you to go, if you wish," Mrs. Weasley explained gently.

"Of course, I'd still like to go," Hermione responded. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Just don't let any of those boys bother you, dear. And if they do, you let me-" Mrs. Weasley looked briefly at her husband, who appeared on the verge of rolling his eyes, "-_us_, know."

Ron moved up behind Hermione, looking over her shoulder. "Hermione stands up for herself just fine, Mum-believe me," Ron began convincingly. "But I-we- promise we'll make sure she's okay."

"All right, then. We'll get back to say goodbye right before you leave," Mrs. Weasley said. And with a pop, the two of them disappeared.

# # #

Hermione gasped and sat bolt upright in bed. Ron was in here somewhere. Peering around the darkened room, she could make out nothing except the closed drapes of her roommates' four-posters and the oddly-shaped pieces of moonlight making their way through the dormitory window to the floor. She'd been asleep, having a nightmare that she was desperately worried about failing her O.W.L.s, and that she was studying in the library, when she'd heard-

*Hermione?* It happened again.

Now she was awake enough to realize he wasn't actually here, just connecting with her telempathically. She enjoyed most of it when she was ready for it, but it was kind of weird to have Ron pop into her mind, especially when she was asleep. In fact, she wasn't aware until now that he could do that. Hermione found herself a little perturbed.

*Is that you, Ron?* She moaned at the same time, flopping back onto her pillow. A thought crossed her mind and she yanked the covers up around herself.

*Ron who? No, it's Gilderoy Lockhart, my love, coming to whisper sweet nothings into your dreams,* Ron singsonged in a sickeningly sugary voice.

*I don't think you're the least bit funny,* Hermione thought to him flatly.

Ron seemed to think it was somewhat amusing, and chuckled, but must have felt it best to move on quickly in his normal tone before he made her more annoyed. *Oh-by the way-I can't see anything. It's too dark. You don't have to be embarrassed.*

*This is what you came to tell me? I didn't even know you could do this. _What_ do you _want? _*

*Hmmm. So cheerful when someone wakes you up unexpectedly. I'll have to keep that in mind,* Ron teased, knowing he was already on shaky ground. But teasing Hermione, even at the risk of making her mad, actually made him feel better, and more like himself, especially after what he'd just been through.

*Look, Ron. I'm not in the mood to play games in the middle of the night. I know all of you guys are all excited about the day after tomorrow, but if you can't sleep, just go- go-bother Harry. You found his mind once. Or better yet, go harass one of your brothers-heaven knows,_ they _deserve it.* Hermione complained. She rolled over on her side, closed her eyes, and, pulling the covers up around her head, prepared to go back to sleep.

*No, it's not that. Actually, I _was_ falling asleep. But _she_came back. Only I don't know if she'll be coming again.*

Hermione's eyes flew open, even though there was no one to see. *She? The screamer?* It wasn't a flattering term, but between them it had come to describe the girl whose mind was haunted by the dementors.

*Yeah. She actually tried tonight-to-you know,* Ron thought sadly.

*She tried?* Hermione knew he was talking about the girl's suicide and from the tone of his thoughts, she could tell he was pretty upset. She attempted to think it gently. *Do you think she was-successful? Or could you tell?*

*I don't know. She was ready to jump from somewhere. Her pain was unbelievable-I guess that's why I could find her, or she found me, I don't know. She wanted to be done with herself so she wouldn't be forced to hurt someone else. I told her to stop-no one could_ make _her hurt anyone. Then I told her to hold on-that I was going to get Dumbledore or someone and maybe find a way to help her. I memorized how to get to her telempathically. But even if I _can_find my way to her mind now, I don't know where she is physically, to go stop her.* His thoughts paused in coming for a moment. *Sometimes I wonder about this telempathy thing-what good is it if I can't help anyone with it?*

Ron sounded as frustrated and helpless as he had with Ginny and the dementors.

Hermione's heart went out to the girl, whoever she was, whose life was so painful, she'd consider throwing it away. But even more heart-wrenching to Hermione at the moment was Ron, who'd try to save the world if he had to and if he could, and who, with his ability, might be forced to sit by and watch helplessly those he could not reach in time.

*So, did she just leave- or did you? Did you try to get to Dumbledore?*

*Yeah, but I couldn't get there in time. The dementors came and cut her off. I was afraid for her after-then I couldn't reach her again-maybe I was trying too hard. Remember? Like what happened with us?*

Suddenly, Hermione threw off the covers and got out of bed. She yanked on her dressing gown and headed for the door. *Meet me downstairs.*

*What? No, Hermione. You don't have to do that. I just wanted to feel normal for a minute. I'm okay now. Get some sleep.* _He_ sounded a bit embarrassed now, even if he _was _feeling a little better.

*I don't care. You'd better be down there after waking me up.*

Three minutes later, Ron appeared next to the hearth in pajamas and a school robe he'd thrown over them. _Probably couldn't find a dressing gown in that mess of a room in the dark,_Hermione thought.

*Hey, I heard that!* Ron thought defensively.

*Okay, first, you have to break the connection with me,* Hermione's thoughts instructed, even though she hated ending the connection.

*Why? Now that we're here, what does it matter?* Ron thought, while he was yawning.

*Look, _you_woke me up. Now you have to put up with me.*

The two of them moved to sit on the same sofa in front of the fire that they'd talked on in another very early morning meeting. Ron severed the connection as Hermione requested, but they both shivered from the cold, lonely feeling left behind when they had to part minds, and dealt with the longing to make the connection again that remained.

Hermione sat at one end of the sofa, aware that she'd made herself hold off on thinking how cute he looked until the connection was broken (_he's not entitled to know __**everything! **_). She studied him a moment as he stretched.

At first, Ron had looked confused as to why she made him come down to meet her, with his robe thrown on, and his hair sticking up almost as badly as Harry's always did. Noticing fleetingly that he smelled sort of minty, like mouthwash, she briefly wondered what he thought about her request for him to meet her here. Surely he didn't think...? But then, Ron _was _all guy. (Besides, she couldn't very well get too upset about it when she herself had used a mouth-freshening charm while waiting for him. Yet that was just good hygiene. Hmph.)

Apparently it had also occurred to Ron that the common room was empty. He'd been waiting for days for a chance to be alone with her, and despite having a very weird and saddening evening, thought it would be nice to feel _very_close to her. So that's where he sat.

Ron's hands in his lap, Hermione still found it most disconcerting that his leg, arm, and shoulder were all pressed against her side. The warmth and tingles they caused led her to believe nothing would get accomplished this way. At least, nothing having to do with her original plan.

"Maybe-you know, in case someone comes down- maybe you should move over a little," she suggested, resisting the urge not to say anything at all, but just enjoy it and see what happened.

"Why?" he said earnestly, searching her eyes and wondering if they were back to being just friends again somehow. He rested his hand on her knee as he turned to look at her.

She shivered involuntarily at his touch. Then she closed her eyes, forcing herself to say it. "Just-move down."

He frowned, but then a thought seemed to occur to him and a huge grin spread across his face. "Oh!"

_Great-he knows exactly what he's doing to me,_she thought, somewhat irritated that her senses would give her away like that.

"Why, Hermione?" he asked with mock innocence. "You sure?"

Hermione didn't answer, just flashed him a look that he knew not to argue with. He scooted to the middle of the sofa, and, while staying at her end, she turned her body to face him, curling her legs underneath her.

"Okay, what I was thinking is-you said you were trying too hard for your connection with the screamer, right? So, maybe if you can relax, you can find out what happened to her. But," she began speaking with a more serious tone now, "the only thing is-you might find good news, or it could be bad. Would it be worth it to try and find out?"

Ron looked serious now, too. "I don't know. I reckon it's worse _not_knowing."

"That's why I wanted us to come down. You can't be connected with me if you're connected with her-can you? Well, anyway, I didn't want you to be alone in case you find out...you know." She tried to read the expression on his face. He looked a lot more adult lately, somehow. "But it's up to you-completely."

It was quiet for a moment. "I'll find out sooner or later. Might as well be now, I guess."

"Okay, then. We'll try and get you to relax. Shake your legs, and let them fall as limp as you can. Then do the same with your arms. Just let them fall to the sofa," Hermione began.

Ron didn't comply immediately. "Wait a minute. What's this all about?" Ron asked suspiciously, before starting.

"I went to a relaxation techniques class once with my cousin. I remember what they taught us. I just never had time to go back."

"Yeah, that sounds like you," Ron noted. "Not relaxed enough about your schedule to find time to go to relaxation class."

"That doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing," Hermione stated, a bit miffed.

"Okay, okay." Ron was ever so glad no one from the boys' dorm was here to witness it, but he went ahead and did as she told him. She led him through a few other exercises she knew, until his arms and legs were stretched out before and next to him, his head back, breathing deeply on the sofa with his eyes closed.

"Shouldn't I be relaxed by now?" Ron asked moments later, still sounding very tense.

"Well, if you just sit quietly for a few minutes and be _patient_," Hermione replied. Ron opened his mouth to say something else, but Hermione just shushed him.

This time, after a few minutes of silence, Ron's breathing became more even, and he did seem to be relaxing more. Hermione, relishing the chance to just gaze at him, was afraid he'd get self-conscious if he felt her staring, so she gave herself something to do. Reaching back, she began to smooth, one by one, each of the tiny ruffled sections of his fiery hair with her fingers, pulling them carefully and gently into place where they belonged.

Ron's face, eyes still closed, broke into a smile as she played with his hair. He made a throaty noise, trying to say something.

"Uh-uh. Don't talk," she instructed.

"But that feels...mmmm... don't stop," he requested, talking through his smile.

She felt the warmth of his hand again as it returned to rest on her leg, but she could also tell he was now relaxed, just by the weight of it. Hermione almost opened her mouth to protest the hand's arrival, yet she realized it would only undermine everything they had just done. She decided she could put up with it-only for now-and continued to fiddle with his hair.

Carefully studying his face, Hermione started to see a change in his expression after a short time. His eyebrows began to knit, then relax, the smile disappeared, and his breathing became more uneven. Fleeting expressions crossed his face with such speed she could not recognize them before they changed once more. She could tell he wasn't completely asleep, but was definitely focused on something within his mind- there was no doubt it was an unpleasant journey.

Finally, a small, relieved smile came to his face. Without opening his eyes or changing his inward focus, Ron said quietly and happily, "She's there, Hermione. She's still hurting, but she's alive." He knitted his brows again in apparent effort and went silent once more. The expressions crossing his face returned.

Abruptly opening his eyes and pulling his head up, Ron shook his head as if to clear it. It had really been no more than twenty minutes, but to him it had seemed like hours. He swung his gaze to Hermione, looking quite relieved, but still concerned.

"She made it this time. But you know what I don't get? She always asks_ me_questions. But if I ask about her, or where she is, the dementors move in and surround her. They can't seem to end the connection, but they keep her away until I can't hold on anymore." Ron appeared more tired than he was before, but he wasn't as upset now that he knew the girl had not ended it all.

Hermione looked into his eyes, and could tell he felt better, even if he still couldn't rush to save the suicidal girl from her problems. "I'm really glad for her, and for you, that things turned out...okay for now. You'll find her. I know you will. But at least maybe she can get by the next couple of days on her own so you can have your birthday celebration in peace," Hermione said hopefully. She really thought he deserved that for himself, too, and it was so hard to try and keep things normal these days. "Speaking of which, we'd better try and get _some_ sleep tonight and lots tomorrow. I refuse to sleep through a trip to Ireland!"

# # #

"Stop your complaining. It was only a little bit off," Fred said. He walked over to the thorny wild gooseberry bush George had landed in, grabbed his twin by the arm, and pulled him out. In Fred's other hand was the grubby and faded orange fishing hat with giant white polka dots that was their Portkey to and from the Quidditch match.

Ron and Harry were getting up to dust themselves and their rucksacks off, having landed and fallen together a few feet away on sloped ground. Aside from Fred, Hermione had been the only other one of the group to transport unscathed, though her hair looked like it had been through a tornado.

George, wiping at a bleeding scratch on his ankle now he was out in the open, was still a bit testy. He walked to Fred and rudely grabbed the Portkey/hat, then smacked his twin on the arm with it. "I'll be the one to get us back, then!" he said, swinging his rucksack off of his shoulder to stuff the hat within.

Fred held up his hands in surrender. The twins were never angry with each other for more than a few seconds.

The early morning light, now quite bright just before sunrise, showed the group to be in a small clearing at the crest of a high hillside; the area was covered with low hills and occasional wide meadows. All the slopes were blanketed with pine and oak forest, except where an occasional gray-white granite boulder broke the random pattern of the thick green trees. To the northwest, there were more hills; to the southwest, a peek of what had to be the ocean.

Shading their eyes against the brilliance to the northwest, they saw the first golden rays of the sunrise pouring like honey into a huge valley below, filling it with the movement and color they had not seen in the morning half-light before. Though hidden by the low hills surrounding it, the flat meadow at the base of the valley held even the enormous size of the professional Quidditch stadium easily. The flying pennants of the teams, the stands floating in air, crowds building as the pre-game carnival began on the valley floor below- this was second only to the pageantry of the World Cup.

"I told you, Claudius_ (pant)_, the old goat just wanted someone_ (pant)_ to carry his gear _(pant)_. As if he couldn't have_ (pant)_ charmed it to go with him _(pant)_. Actin' like he wasn't strong enough to cast the spell_ (pant)_..."

Suddenly, two heads appeared coming up from the crest on the stadium side, the panting voice apparently belonging to the heavier-set of the two wizards. As they looked up from the ground at the end of their laborious climb from below, they spied the group of five young people at the top.

"Hey there! Just got here, did you? Had to leave for a bit-" the one named Claudius seemed to have more breath to greet them, but then his head snapped toward his watch as he gasped, "Oh, no-look out!"

Hearing the slightest whoosh from behind them, Claudius' warning gave the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione just enough time to jump aside as a new group of Quidditch fans arrived. A wizard family of four, dressed in the red on black colors of the Ballycastle Bats (the team Ron had told them was playing the Cannons today), appeared in precisely the space where the five friends had been standing.

"'Morning, Claudius. 'Morning, Tavish. Great day for a game, eh?" the man in the new group said.

"Elver Beeles! Right on time, as always! You gents from the M.M.S. certainly took care of the fog for us," the heavier-set wizard told the man. "It's been pretty bad the last couple o' days."

"Yes, so we heard. It's hard enough on the teams to play a match in the fog, but it's really tough on the league owners. Usually puts a dent in the ticket sales for the next game when the fans have spent a day lookin' at the underside of a cloud instead of a match," Beeles said. "Well-see you after the game!" He then collected his family and looked toward the path down the hill that was still lit by tiny, brightly colored floating lanterns all the way to the valley floor. But before walking away, his gaze focused very briefly on Harry.

In the earlier confusion, Claudius had not taken mental note of the three heads of red hair in the group that had previously arrived. He moved over to stand near all five of them.

"Oh-I've just noticed! You must be Arthur Weasley's group," Claudius said.

Tavish's ears perked up. "Ah, yes. We were told to watch for you-make sure everything went all right. And Mr. Harry Potter is traveling with you? Yes, I see that he is!"

Ron watched as Harry's cheeks went pink. He knew now that Harry hated this kind of recognition from complete strangers, and his friend still didn't deal with it very well. The double-take from Elver Beeles was a good example.

"Well, we've had instructions from both Arthur Weasley and Albus Dumbledore to make sure you get to your appointed places at the correct times, safely and securely," Tavish explained. "There'll be other watchwizards down below, too, just to make sure."

"But you're to have a good time, as well," Claudius added.

"It's a wonder they didn't assign us bodyguards," Ron sighed. He wondered if he'd ever be old enough for his parents to stop watching over him constantly. But, thinking about how his parents still were with Bill and Charlie, even at their ages, he realized it wasn't likely. Plus he knew Sirius really _would_commit murder if anything happened to Harry; Dumbledore would be unable to stop him. Ron decided he might as well enjoy himself. "Well, let's get on with it then!"

"That man who was just here-I've seen him in the _Daily Prophet_," Fred commented to Claudius, indicating Mr. Beeles, the Ballycastle Bats fan. "He's from the M.M.S.? What does that stand for again?"

"Elver Beeles is from the Magical Meteorological Society. It's been only a couple of years they've been able to help us with the weather. Of course, they have to arrange it so that the Muggles don't get suspicious," Claudius explained. "So-you've been here before, or do you need some direction?"

"Looks like the only way to go is down, so I think we've got it," Ron said, anxious to get to the carnival below. He started off towards the first lantern at the head of the downward path, with Harry, Fred, and George at his heels.

"Actually, I had a few questions about the departure procedure," Hermione said, moving up to Claudius. "You see, this is really our first time with a Portkey on our own and..."

Ron and Harry were already about ten yards down the path before they heard Hermione's voice as she started in on questioning Claudius. They looked at one another, shaking their heads, but stopped to wait for her. Fred and George, having already passed them on the path, made hand signals to indicate they would be waiting at the bottom-then proceeded to cover their mouths in mock laughter and point back at their brother and his friend. As Ron turned to make sure Hermione didn't see, he aimed a very special hand gesture of his own in his brothers' direction.

Ron and Harry waited a short while as several other groups of fans arrived and passed them on the path down the hill. Ron kicked the rocks along the side of the trail, willing himself to be patient.

Ron looked up as he felt his best friend staring at him. "I know-don't say it."

Harry smirked at him quietly. "I didn't say a word."

"Yeah. Right. You didn't have to." Ron still felt the need to defend himself, though he wasn't sure what for. "But what if I _hadn't_asked her to come?"

"Wasn't my invitation to make. How would _you _have felt if you hadn't asked her?" Harry countered. "Like you were... missing something perhaps?...Or some_one _?" His smirk had become more of a teasing smile, in spite of himself.

It was beginning to occur to Ron that Harry might have some clue about him and Hermione. Hermione and he hadn't actually planned to keep their relationship a big secret or anything. It just seemed like a better idea to let it stay private until they figured out exactly what to do with it themselves. Harry had never brought the subject up quite so obviously before.

Ron's ears went red, and he started to look away in embarrassment. But he decided to be brave, and looked directly back at Harry. "Yeah, you're probably right," Ron said quietly. "But I wouldn't miss her questioning everyone about 'procedures'."

The two friends smiled knowingly at one another for a moment at the confession, Ron's blush creeping up his face again. Harry didn't push it farther, or rub it in. For that, Ron was grateful.

Ron turned to yell up the hill. "Hermione! We're leaving-see you here after the game, I reckon!"

"I'm coming!" she answered, finally picking up her rucksack from the ground and heading towards them.

"So is Christmas!" Ron replied in mock irritation.

Just as Hermione reached them, and they were about to set off, Ron froze as if something had struck him. He snapped his head around to look west into the still-murky forest behind him, with a strange, serious, attentive look on his face.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked, facing Ron and looking up at him with concern.

"Shhh," Ron replied, still peering into the trees. He turned his head to a different angle, and appeared to be listening for something. The three of them stood frozen and silent for a few minutes to let him listen.

"Hmmm. I had a feeling...Nah-never mind. It was probably nothing," Ron said, dismissing it from the conversation, then looking as if he'd found an answer. "Oh, I know what that probably was now! That was just the blood rushing to my feet-_from standing here so long!" _Ron said teasingly to Hermione, looking down into her face and smiling. He leaned close to her side, grabbing and squeezing her hand momentarily.

Startled that Ron would do this in front of Harry, Hermione was a bit flustered. "Oh, just-be quiet!" she replied to his complaint.

"No. This is not a day to be quiet," Ron stated matter-of-factly. He then cupped his hands around his mouth and looked skyward. Flame red hair and bright orange team shirt flapping in the early morning breeze, Ron yelled at the top of his lungs, "GO CANNONS!" (as his two friends cringed) before he, Hermione, and Harry continued down the path toward the welcoming sounds of the carnival.

# # #

Valeria walked out of the little stone hut and looked around her. The fog was gone and the birds were beginning to chirp, heralding the arrival of the sun in the east._ It will feel so good to see the sun,_ Valeria thought as she looked up at a cloudless sky, _even though I can't imagine how the weather could change so drastically from one day to the next. _

In spite of her horrible evening the night before last, she felt a bit refreshed and revived this morning. The despair and hopelessness that had almost caused her suicide had been replaced this morning with something of a sense of purpose. In fact, she felt so good, she was compelled to take a hike up the hill to the north just to see what was around her, since it would be her home for at least a while, anyway.

Valeria wandered toward the water well, feeling the playful little pre-dawn breeze on her cheeks. The day she arrived she'd found the well behind the cottage, throwing a rock to its depths to see if it still functioned. A splashing noise from the bottom confirmed it, so she'd bought two buckets and some rope in town, then made the necessary repairs herself.

She drew up a bucket of water and, cupping her hands, dipped them in to scoop out and throw some water over her face. Drawing another full bucket, she took it with her into the cottage, using it to fill her empty plastic soda bottle and prepare for her short hike up the hill.

From the supplies she'd bought in town, Valeria chose some bread, cheese, and an apple and packed them into her old school found herself humming a little. _And just the other night, I didn't think I'd be using this food, _she thought. _I almost feel a little like myself today. _

The more she tried not to dwell on the events of her abandoned suicide as she walked, the more her mind tried to sort it all out. Valeria surprised herself by feeling grateful to the Muertos, for she thought it must have been them who had physically pulled her away from the cliff, and away from her own destruction.

_That night, I must have been out of my mind, far worse than ever before , _Valeria thought. _Never before have the Muertos felt so real, or have they seemed to live in my world instead of my mind. But it was they who took me back inside the cottage and forced me to lie still until I fell into asleep._

As she approached the crumbling guard turrets standing at the top of the hill behind the castle, she turned back to the valley behind her to get her bearings. There, past the castle below and off toward the ocean, lay her little stone hut. Valeria knew how to get back, so she decided to go on. She passed through the shallow valley between and proceeded to climb the taller peak behind that, which housed the castle.

It was nearing sunrise now and the eastern sky became bright as it filled with the glorious sunlight Valeria was so hungry for. Just as she came to the crest of the taller hill, she felt a short thrill of excitement to look over and see what was beyond. Rushing to the edge of a large boulder that gave her a clearer view below, she was awed at the sight of a huge and beautiful, green-carpeted valley, flat and oval-shaped at its floor, the stretch of green broken only by a few white granite outcroppings scattered about.

The first morning sunrays rushed in to illuminate the valley further, and inspired Valeria to think of a picture from one of her history books at school. She actually liked history better than many of her other subjects, because one could be so certain of history in an otherwise uncertain life.

Due to its proximity to the proud castle behind her, Valeria could imagine this valley as the place great jousting tournaments were once held hundreds of years earlier. She saw in her mind's eye the colored pennants waving in the breeze, the proud, strong, stallions in protective mail, knights in shining armor astride them.

Lost in her thoughts, a wave of dizziness hit her with nearly enough force to throw her off balance-the Muertos were coming. She quickly found a place to sit where she'd be safe from falling during the blackout, but she was unwilling to give up the beauty that lay before her. Valeria was determined to continue her fantasy until they forced her from consciousness completely-they weren't going to completely ruin her first good day in a long time.

Valeria recalled an old movie she saw once and remembered the tall knight in shining armor astride a palomino steed. He was the victor in the joust and was just entering the field after the competition; she imagined she could see him move onto the field. He removed his helmet to accept the fair princess' hand, revealing his dark auburn hair, and his sincere, yet winning smile. The Knight looked around at the stands filled with people, the applause and cheering for him coming up to reach her from the valley below. But that had been long ago.

Or was it?

Because as she sat staring down into the valley, trying to deal with the arrival of the Muertos, something strange happened to her-something that had never happened before. She closed her eyes as a sharp pain entered her head. The same blinding green light that had come screaming at her the day she had met Tom was blasting through her mind again. The pain increased to an almost skull-splitting crescendo, and then finally began to fade.

But as it did, she was aware that something was still with her, she was not left alone as it had always been before. Memories of the phrase "be my eyes, be my eyes" briefly flitted through her consciousness. As the pain and nausea passed, she gained enough strength to open her eyes and look down into the meadow once more. It was then that her sense of reason left her completely.

For there below, where there had just been a lovely, yet empty meadow of green grass and rock, now stood an enormous stadium. Though different than the jousting stadium she had just imagined, this was a stadium indeed, complete with flags and pennants, strange ten-story posts with huge golden hoops at the top, and floating stands filling with thousands of people dressed in long, flowing robes. On the floor of the meadow there appeared to be cubicles of some sort, much like a carnival she had seen once in Spain, but one hundred times its size. And it all seemed to be real-not imaginary this time. Noise from the crowd drifted upward toward her, and though fear gripped her middle at the sight of a crowd this large, she knew she'd be forced to join them.

Why hadn't she been able to see all of this before? And why would two of the Muertos come with her to consciousness, as if they were guarding or escorting her? It was all so very strange.

Then the realization came.

"Oh, dear God," she whispered to herself in stunned horror. "This is it. This is my mission."

# # #

"She's stopping," the deep, hissing voice said, looking out of the castle window toward the north.

"Just for a moment, Master," a high-pitched, whining voice explained, sounding somewhat fearful of what the other would say.

"Can she see? Is everything in place just as I told you?" the deeper voice demanded.

"Of course, My Lord. We countered the Muggle-Repelling Charm on the Quidditch stadium for her so well that she _wanted_to go there, and -we used your Sight Charm so she can see through the bewitchment as well as any normal witch could," the small, watery-eyed man, owner of the whining voice, explained while trying to wring his hands. (He didn't have much success with this since one hand was his own and the other was made of silver.)

"Pity we had to use a Muggle. It does complicate things so. But all the better to lure our heroic Mr. Potter," the tall, pallid owner of the deep, hissing voice noted. He turned his ghostly white face to the little man beside him, his red, slit-like eyes flashing. "Potter would be suspicious of anything too magical-he might suppose it to be mine-the work of Lord Voldemort. But a helpless little Muggle girl? It was so kind of Professor Fuentes-pity the man disappeared so mysteriously," Voldemort smiled wickedly at the thought. "After all, he not only sent the orb our way, but also informed us about our little accident with Miss Cruz so many years ago. It has taken a long time to train her, but I trust it will be worthwhile, Wormtail."

"Oh, yes, Master, once we have Harry Potter..." Wormtail simpered.

The master turned to the window once more. "Look! She's standing again. But she looks uncertain. You _did_send someone with her to monitor her actions, did you not?" Voldemort questioned.

"Of course, My Lord! Several of the- dementors went with her, in her mind, of course. After the other night, we felt we needed some degree of control so she didn't just- do herself in," said Wormtail. The little man hesitated nervously each time he was forced to mention the dementors, or working with them.

"Good, good. It will only be a matter of time, then, though my patience will be tested with the wait. And the orb?" Voldemort asked.

"It's here, Master. Downstairs in the dungeon, ready to use at your will. Our connections in the M.M.S. have guaranteed it will work as well here as when we tested it in the Ukraine," Wormtail assured him.

"Fine, then. My supporters in Ukraine have managed to create a wonderfully devious illusion, haven't they?" As Voldemort spoke, a huge snake slithered around the corner of the doorframe and headed for the Dark Lord, it's gigantic body cutting wide swaths across the floor as it moved.

"Lucius Malfoy has only just returned home and he reports that all is going well, My Lord. The Death Eaters are providing such a convincing diversion, even the Ministry is relaxing somewhat. They believe you're stranded in the Carpathian Mountains behind their Magic-Inhibiting Spells until the winter snows melt. So they're not even sending any more Auror reinforcements." Wormtail smiled a crooked, evil little grin. "After all-the only thing they have to do is keep you there." Wormtail snorted a laugh with a breathy, gasping sound.

Suddenly, the absurdity of the Aurors casting spells to keep him in the mountains where he _wasn't_hit the Dark Lord, and he roared with a bone-chilling laugh. "Ha! Amateurs, all of them! But this is comforting news. Ahhh, Nagini, my pet."

Voldemort held his long, white, twitching fingers down to the snake, starting to hiss and spit in what was obviously an affectionate conversation in Parseltongue. The snake coiled around his arm and slowly slithered its way up to his shoulders.

"Oh, so you want to see her again, do you?" Voldemort asked, still using Parseltongue so that the snake could understand.

Nagini pulled herself up high enough so that her head was next to Voldemort's and she could see out the window. She swung her head a bit from side to side, apparently trying to focus on the girl that was some distance away. Voldemort took his wand from his robes and swirled it in front of the snake's face, muttering something under his breath.

"Better, my dear? I know. My patience will be tested, too, my sweet," Voldemort told Nagini. "But you know I have promised. She will be yours. As soon as she's lured Potter to us, we will be through with her, and she will be yours. We will do the Embodiment Spell as soon as you're ready after that. You'll have your own body to walk in the forest just as she is doing right now. And you'll look as lovely as you've always wished. Though you've always looked lovely to me. You've earned this, my pet."

Voldemort was struggling a bit to support Nagini's weight on his shoulders. "You must go now, Nagini. We will need all of our strength to get everything we deserve in the next few days."

Nagini complied, slowly sliding down the other side of Voldemort's body to the floor. He stood patiently to allow her the several minutes to do so.

"Wormtail," the Dark Lord began, turning to the little man, who seemed to be trying to shrink away without Voldemort noticing. "Wormtail, go now-tell them. Tell the dementors it will be soon. And make sure they do nothing to that orb!"

"But, my Lord, they are getting impatient. And they are _very_hungry," Wormtail protested. "I just communicated with the leader yesterday. Perhaps this time you ought to do it with him, so he can know-" Wormtail was obviously terrified of the dementors, and of telling them Voldemort's bidding.

"Silence! I doubt if they'll even respect a leader soon, Wormtail. These are dementors who have left Azkaban over the years because they would not bow to any authority. Any, of course, except mine," Voldemort sneered. "But I have important matters to attend to now myself. I must do the meteorological calculations for the orb-I'll have only one chance to adjust the reflector. It will take a great deal of concentration for me to keep it aloft alone. You and the dementors must all do your parts exactly as planned, or the whole opportunity, and Harry Potter, will be lost."

"But, Master, I do not think they like taking orders from me," Wormtail whined again, his voice catching.

"Wormtail, you_ will_ do this. You _will_ keep them at their posts, at their tasks, or else-" Voldemort paused to let his frightened little companion consider a moment. "Or else, you'll be their next meal. As you said yourself-they _are_ getting very hungry."


	12. Let the Games Begin

**~ Chapter 12 ~  
Let the Games Begin...**

"Rhodes has been right on the tail of that Snitch for an hour now," George complained about the Cannons' Seeker. "Is he ever going to catch it, or what? Come on, Rhodes!" he yelled in encouragement.

Though it had truly been a marvelous day for all five of them, it had also been a very long one. They had played the magical carnival games, taken turns at the rides, eaten loads of sweets (well, except Hermione), felt sick, rested five minutes, then started all over again. The whole cycle, three times through-and that was all before the game even started.

"Patience, George, patience," Ron said quietly, as if he actually understood what the word meant himself. Entranced by the Seeker's actions, he absently grabbed at the end of the three-foot sweet that had coiled itself around his neck. He was halfway through eating his third sugar Sssnecklace just since the game had started. The Sssnecklace sweets were only charmed to respond like a pet snake for several hours, but this one was determined to fight for its life the entire time. The fresh one wrapped firmly around Ron's right bicep was already much calmer.

"Hey!" Ron said, realizing the sweet had momentarily outwitted him. But he finally grabbed its snapping tail and bit off a large chunk.

Even the game was going Ron's way this day, though it was quite a surprise, even to him. The Ballycastle Bats, home team for Northern Ireland, had a far superior win record than the Cannons, but two of their best Chasers were down with the flu, and the Cannons were actually executing one of their better games. To see the Cannons win, on top of everything else, would almost be too much to ask for, even on one's sixteenth birthday.

The referee whistled for a one-minute break for advertising purposes. That was the only real difference between professional Quidditch and the games at Hogwarts, aside from salaries for the players- the professional teams had to cater to their sponsors.

Barny the Fruitbat, the mascot for Ballycastle, appeared as a huge, magical, holograph-like figure in the air at the center of the field. He loudly screeched, swooped, and tap-danced his way through his sponsor's jingle, proclaiming: 'I'm just batty about Butterbeer!'.

During the break, Ron took a moment to look around and check on his group. George, on the far end away from him, was bored with Barny already; he had spotted a pretty girl several rows below them, and was busily throwing popcorn at her hair, then pretending he hadn't when she turned around. (The twins were obviously working very hard on their behavior today, but nobody was perfect.) Fred and Harry were completely engrossed in a conversation about racing brooms, Harry occasionally bumping Hermione with his arm as he demonstrated dimensions and handling techniques. Hermione was seated on the bench between Ron and Harry, and Ron studied her closely as she was absorbed in watching various groups of people in the stands down below them with the Omnioculars Harry had bought them at the World Cup.

Hermione felt Ron's eyes on her and she glanced up at him, realizing he'd been staring at her for a time. She blushed a little, but flashed a big smile.

How that hungry feeling could survive in a stomach so full of sweets, Ron didn't know, but that different and wonderful hunger was there in full force. _Oh, if all these people weren't here, Hermione_...Ron thought, beginning to see why small, intimate birthday parties became more popular once people got older. It had never made sense to him before.

The referee blew her whistle, and the game began once more. The Cannons were ahead 70-60, but almost immediately, the Bats' Chasers swerved around Phelps, the Cannon's Keeper, and tied the game.

Blurs of black with red were visible bouncing up and down, especially concentrated on the far side of the stands. A chorus of "boo's" came from the stands with the largest contingent of orange shirts, including at least one very loud fan with an orange shirt and red hair.

But suddenly, from the stands directly to the left and down from the five friends, a low, murmuring cheer began from waves of Cannons fans, as they stood to get a better view of what they hoped they saw.

Rhodes and Muldoon, the Bats' Seeker, had both made a dive toward the pitch a few minutes earlier. Since the fans could not see the Snitch, they thought it had been a feint once the two Seekers split into opposite directions near the floor of the stadium. But if there had been a bluff, it had only fooled the Bats' Seeker, because Rhodes came shooting up from the field not three feet behind the Snitch. As it flew over the heads of the fans below Ron and company, the cheer became louder, as Rhodes kept closing the gap every millisecond.

Almost directly above the Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry, Rhodes put forth a stunning effort and grabbed, making a spectacular catch and spiraling up high over their heads to keep from crashing into the stands. Once he gained full control of his broomstick, he held up the Snitch for all those in the roaring crowd to see, swinging past the Cannons stands in a victory lap. The game was over. The Cannons had won.

The celebration that followed was nothing short of chaos. People were jumping, yelling, screaming, hugging, throwing popcorn (though George had none left), shaking hands, kissing- anything legal (or marginally so) that could be done in public.

George, Fred, Harry, and Hermione all yelled and cheered at having seen such a magnificent catch, but of course it was Ron who had already screamed himself hoarse. Some fifteen minutes later, a few of the diehard Cannons fans were still at it, and Ron was one of them.

Finally calming somewhat after hearing the game's ending remarks and MVW Awards (Most Valuable Witch/Wizard), the five friends approached one of the watchwizards to ask about their Portkey time for home. Checking his list, the watchwizard noted they had changed their departure time too recently (due to the Charlie/Lorraine incident) to get a very early exit time. They would be among the last to go-which suited them just fine.

Examining the sun's position in the sky, the five estimated they would be departing just as the sun set, about an hour and a half away. They asked the watchwizard which food stands were still open, deciding to head down and get a bite to eat before leaving.

By the time the group had reached the valley floor, some of the adrenaline that had been keeping them going began to wear off-especially Ron's.

"Okay, so they have steak and kidney pie, chicken and chips, fish and chips-" Hermione read from the floating list of food available.

"Stop, stop," Ron begged. Between the mention of food and the aromas, he realized his stomach wanted no more of anything. In fact, his head was starting to spin so badly, all he wanted to do was sit down. "I think I'll just wait to eat-until later. I'll- just go and sit at one of the tables down there and wait for all of you."

"Are you all right, Ron?" Hermione asked, noticing his usually pale skin was actually looking a bit green under the freckles.

"Yeah, just a bit too much-" the words 'rubbish in my stomach' came to mind, but Ron decided to go with something a little more dignified, "-excitement, I guess."

A few picnic tables had been pushed up near the rising hillside a short way down the path. Ron walked to one, settled himself, and went to lay his head on his arms. His last Sssnecklace, nose to nose with him now and still clinging to his bicep, appeared to be snickering at him, so he roughly pushed its head to the other side. Finally he could put his own head down. _Now maybe the ground will stop swaying beneath me,_ he thought. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply, before his stomach got the better of him.

# # #

Harry was in line with the others, leaning first on one foot, then the other. It had been a long, wonderful day, he was tired, and he was ready to return to Hogwarts now. He had watched with amusement as Ron explained to Hermione that he didn't want to eat anything (since Harry'd seen enough of what Ron ate that day to know why), and then saw his friend stalk away to sit at one of the tables down the path.

_Come to think of it, I'm not that hungry either,_ Harry thought. He looked down the row of concession cubicles, wondering if there was anything that would be a little more appealing. He was really just thirsty-_there must be pumpkin juice or something to buy, then I'll just go sit down with Ron. Yeah, that sounds better._

Harry started to wander down to the other cubicles, but thought perhaps he'd better tell someone where he was going.

Just then, a large group of Cannons fans happened by, still celebrating, all of them dancing, screaming, singing, and shouting. Since Harry was standing back from the line now, the group tried to grab him up and pull him along with them. They managed to pull him a short way before he could get them to let go of his sleeve.

"Hermione!" Harry called as the group spirited him away, but she was involved in a conversation with George, and didn't hear him. "Fred!" Harry tried, but Fred was apparently lost in choosing between chicken or fish, and didn't hear him either.

By the time he got loose, Harry knew he was too far away for Hermione or the twins to hear him now-and Ron was even farther on the other side. _Oh, well,_ he thought. _I might as well just go on. The crowd's thinned out a great deal now. I should only be a minute-they won't even know I've been gone._

_# # #_

Valeria had never seen anything like it in her life. She had heard that such games existed, like professional _fútbol_and American football, but she had never seen such a game in person. The crowds, the stadiums, the teams looked like those she'd seen on television-but in those games, she recalled that the players usually stayed on the ground.

She didn't know people could fly on broomsticks. No matter how hard it was for her to believe, there it was; she was watching it go on right in front of her. Valeria was certain her mind must be slipping completely again.

The Muertos were not willing to leave her alone. They were escorting her, guarding her, but she knew she was expected to complete the coming task on her own. There were only two of them, instead of many, and they had no new instructions or lessons for her. They kept her focused on her one goal: to find Harry Potter in the crowd.

The beings forced her to review the plan: make sure Potter's alone, bump into him in the crowd, fall and pretend you've been injured. Be certain he feels responsible for your fall, ask him to help get you back to the cottage. He'll want to bring his friends-that is unacceptable. Above all, be certain the plan will work-_you will __**make **__it work, _both Tom and the Muertos had told her.

Wandering for hours around the spectator stands, Valeria had no idea how she would ever find Potter out of this many people. She'd seen one or two boys who looked similar, but not yet an exact match. The dread of what would happen when she did find him kept eating at her strength.

_There are so many people here. What if something goes wrong, and they turn me over to one of the security guards? They'll take me off to some place for crazy people, and drug me, and keep me there floating in and out of reality for the rest of my life. That would be worse than death itself. At least now I'm free to decide when or where to end it._

_What if the crowd suspects I'm trying to hurt someone, and they begin to move in on me themselves? What if I never find Potter? Would Tom be angry enough to kill me then? At least it would be over._

Valeria's fear began to move outside her mind. Feeling her fear's power and thinking of Potter at once had done this to her before-the other times that _he_ had appeared-the one who wanted her to resist the Muertos and ultimately, Tom. Could he help her now? There were only the two Muertos. Could he help her be stronger? Heaven knows she needed it- even being on the verge of suicide had never made her so afraid as she was of purposely hurting someone else. She felt her mind reaching...

# # #

_*It's so crowded. I feel like all these people are closing in on me.* _Valeria thought.  
_  
*I know what you mean-there are loads of people where I am, too,* _Ron thought.

*I think I'm suffocating. And the beings-they're watching me-they're here

_**with **__me. They're making me look for him now. I told you. I __**told **__you! They're going to make me do it. They're going to make me hurt him!*_

*Resist them,*

Ron tried. _*Tell them you won't. But I'm even farther away now. How can I help you from here? Where are you?*_

*It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter any more.*

All in Ron's head went silent, and he thought she had left, or the dementors had pulled her away.  
_  
*Oh, my God. It's him. I-I can't. I can't go over there. But they're making me.*_

*Push back!*

Ron thought to her. _*Tell them you won't! I'll be right here when you do!* _He thought maybe if he acted like he was working with her it would help her be stronger against the dementors. 

*They're forcing me! They can tell my mind what to make my body do. No! No!*she began to yell in her mind. _*It's not helping! He's almost in front of me now. I want to tell him to run, but they're keeping me from it. How could this boy hurt Tom? He doesn't look evil. I don't want to do it!* _Her mind formed the thoughts, but the warning stopped in her throat. _*Run! Go!*_

Ron could feel she was crying now. Her fear and self-loathing were weighing on him so heavily he could scarcely breathe.  
_  
*Is there anything you can do to warn him? Anything at all?* _Ron questioned.

*They're eager because he's all alone, away from his group. I'm close enough now-he looks just like the picture they showed me. Green eyes, glasses, the messy hair-that's him. I can't get anything out of my throat to tell him to go! And I'm certain that's him -there's that awful scar!*

Even through the telempathic connection, a horrifying suspicion shot like a bullet through Ron's mind, but he knew he was wrong-he _had_ to be wrong! He could hardly push the question to her._*What -scar? He has a scar?_*

_*A jagged scar-like lightning-on his forehead. *_

Ron drew breath so hard and sat up so fast he nearly passed out. "Harry," he choked out to himself, trying to return to reality and process a million thoughts through his mind at once. It all came together and he scrambled to his feet.

"Harry!" he yelled. _She's __**here**__-they're sending her for __**him**__- it's __**Harry **__they want! _Squinting into the light of the setting sun and breathing unevenly, Ron frantically searched the crowd for any sign of his best friend. "Harry!" Ron shouted again in the other direction, as the people passing stared at him in confusion. He looked for a watchwizard, but there were none to be found. All he saw was Fred, George, and Hermione running towards him. Ron forced the air out of his lungs to make his already raspy voice louder, "HARRY!"

Then the second horrifying realization in as many minutes hit him-Harry wasn't with them. The shouting hadn't helped, so Ron was hoping the prayerful wish under his breath might. "Please, please, Harry-you've got to get away from her!"

# # #

Although many of the workers in the concession stands were starting to pack up their wares, Harry spotted one down the row with a brightly lit rotating mug still floating in the air above it, and a sign that flashed alternately : "Juice! Butterbeer! Ale!" He walked towards it, noting that the sunlight had begun to fade, and that the shadows were getting much longer.

Focusing his gaze on the stand to his left as he approached, Harry didn't notice something come hurtling at him from the right. Feeling the wind knocked from him as if he'd been charged during a Quidditch match, Harry was thrown to the ground. He put his left arm out to help break the fall, his glasses flew off and he felt something, or someone, fall with him. At the same time, he heard a short scream of surprise before he felt pain and weight on his legs.

In a reflex action borne of years of Quidditch training, Harry sat up and grabbed at whatever had hit him and held tight, finding an arm in his hand, and a face directly in front of his own. Luckily, at this close range, he didn't need his glasses to tell that the hurtling object that hit him had been -a girl.

The girl's long, straight, black hair had swung forward into her face as she fell, and she shook her head to throw her hair back. As she did, Harry noticed she must be somewhere near his own age; but then he'd never been very good at guessing ages, especially with girls. At first glance, he thought she looked surprised, as was he, but peering closer, he thought he saw fear-and something else - in her dark eyes.

"Excuse_ you!" _said the girl irritably.

Harry usually managed to be polite to people he didn't know, but this was just too much to take. "Excuse _me!" _Harry repeated in disbelief.

"That's better, then, you're excused," she said in a more pleasant voice, her words tinged with an accent Harry didn't recognize.

"What! No! I mean-you ran into me!" Harry spluttered.

"No, it was your fault. And-you're hurting me!" the girl said, indicating her arm still in Harry's vice-like grip.

Harry hadn't realized he was still clenching her arm in his hand. He released it, and noticed there were red marks where his fingers had been. Feeling a little sheepish, he cleared his throat and mumbled, "Oh-sorry."

"Well, now that I'm finally free, I suppose I can get up," the girl said a bit sarcastically, beginning to pull herself back from where Harry's legs had been pinned beneath her. Trying to straighten into a standing position, the girl's left leg buckled, and she fell back to the ground at Harry's side. "Owww!" she cried, drawing breath between her teeth, apparently in pain. The girl grabbed at her knee, rocking back and forth.

"What-what happened?" Harry questioned, putting aside his irritation with her. "Are you all right?" A note of concern in his voice, he tried to see what the problem was, but he hadn't realized until this point his glasses were missing. Harry began feeling for them on the ground around him, but to no avail.

"Oh...no...I don't think so," the girl moaned. "I've torn up my knee again." She continued to rock and hold her knee, crying now.

Harry was becoming worried that she had seriously hurt herself. No matter whose fault the accident was, he certainly couldn't just leave her there. Maybe he could find her family or friends. "Well- who did you come here with? Are they nearby?"

"I came with my friends, but I'm sure they've already left. They thought I was going back with another group from school." The girl paused, thinking for some reason. "They went- on their Portkey."

_**On **__their Portkey?_Harry wondered. He'd never heard it said that way-maybe she was more hurt than he thought. Harry noted that as much pain as the girl seemed to be in, she also acted quite nervous, as if something else was bothering her.

"Well - let me find my glasses and we'll get some help for you." Harry rolled over onto his knees to look around. Luckily, there was enough sunlight left to catch on the lenses and reflect, and he spotted his spectacles about three feet behind him in a patch of grass. Pushing off the ground, he collected his glasses, cleaned them with his shirt hem, put them on, and then dusted himself off a bit.

"Okay. I think I'm in one piece," Harry stated. "Let's see what we can do for you. First of all, let's get you off the ground, anyway. There are some tables down that way a little if you can make it. I'll try and help you get there. Then maybe one of my friends can find a watchwizard." He looked around again briefly. "I don't know why there hasn't been one by here yet."

"No!" The girl reacted suddenly and forcefully. "I mean-no, I don't want to bother your friends-or- those other people," she stated in a more reasonable tone. "Maybe just _you_could help me."

Harry wondered at her attitude. She didn't seem to be shy, but why such a strong reaction to getting help from others? Was she in trouble? _Oh, well, I suppose we'll get to that later. _"Right, then. Well, the stands are too high to get to. I think we're stuck with those tables."

He reached down to grab her hand. "Oh- I'm Harry."

The girl didn't answer. A strange expression crossed her face as she looked up at him. She attempted to disguise the fear on her face, but she didn't hide it well.

Harry tried to figure out what it meant. He'd purposely avoided using his surname because that _always_ caused a reaction in the magical world. And he didn't think she'd had time to see his scar and make the connection with his first name. Even so, no one he'd ever met in the wizarding world had ever reacted to him with _fear_because they knew he was Harry Potter.

"And you're...?" Harry tried again.

"Valeria," she answered quietly, seeming even more nervous than before.

"Come on then," Harry said, finally grasping her hand and pulling her up, finding that the girl was at least as tall as he was, perhaps a bit taller. He set her hand behind his neck to steady her and awkwardly put his arm around her waist to help keep her from putting weight on her injured leg. _  
_  
The two had just begun working their way slowly across the path, when Harry thought he heard someone shouting his name. He looked around, trying to find the source of the voice.

"Harry! Harry-where are you?" It was Ron's raspy, forced voice, coming from somewhere higher than where he stood with Valeria. Harry looked up toward the hillside above him to find Ron standing in one of the few remaining spectator stands maintenance wizards had been trying to Dissolve the stands, and no one was allowed to be in them now-but then, this was Ron.

"Down here, Ron!" Harry yelled back.

Valeria suddenly tensed, acting worried.

"No-don't call your friends. Just you help me. Please...please..." she begged. But then, she followed Harry's gaze into the stands above them. Her eyes fell on Ron.

Valeria's jaw dropped and her face went ashen. She began to shake violently. Outside of the blackouts and the telempathic connections, she'd never met him; not once had she ever seen him. But somehow she knew who he was. For a few moments, she could do nothing but stare.

Harry noticed Valeria's response to Ron, but was equally surprised about Ron's reaction to her.

Ron glared back at Valeria for a few moments, apparently trying to set something in his mind about her face. Then he snapped out of it. "Harry! Get away from her! She's-" he acted like he wanted to tell Harry something important, but then decided against yelling it out. "Just- get away! I'll be right down!"

Harry wasn't quite sure what to do about the situation. He looked at Valeria, trying to remember if he should know her. After all, Ron seemed to know her, and have a definite opinion about her, but Harry didn't have a clue as to why. Besides, she was hurt-what was she going to do to him?

Hearing the pounding of footsteps in the distance, Harry looked toward the direction of the tables. His friends were all running full speed toward them both, Ron in the lead with his long strides. Even though he couldn't see Ron's face well with the sun behind him, Harry got the distinct impression from Ron's speed that something was wrong.

Valeria spied them as well and pushed away from Harry. She herself took off running across the field to the south, with not a sign of an injury to be had. In fact, Harry thought in the brief, stunned moment that he watched her run, she was one of the few people he'd ever seen whose running speed might rival Ron's.

Ron pounded up to Harry, breathing hard. "You okay?" Ron asked, trying to keep sight of Valeria out of the corner of his eye.

Harry was dumbfounded. "Yeah, I'm fine. What's going on?"

"Not sure exactly. But they'll have to tell you what little we know. I'm going after _her_," he panted, indicating Valeria. Ron turned to speak to his brothers, who were just arriving, and Hermione, who was a short ways behind. "You three keep Harry in your _sight! _Find a watchwizard! I don't know what's going on, but I mean to find out!"

"But the Portkey site-it's nearly time!" George shouted to Ron's back, as his younger brother set off running across the field.

"I'll catch up-meet you there!" Ron shouted to them, having to turn and run backwards a few steps to answer. He then focused his attention back on running swiftly and catching up with Valeria, just as he saw her disappear into the woods at the south end of the field.

# # #

Hermione watched as Claudius and Tavish exchanged a concerned look with one another. _Probably wondering if they'll be held personally responsible for losing track of one of Arthur Weasley's sons, _she thought.

They had been at the Portkey site for about twenty minutes now, with no sign of anyone or anything that was intent on causing Harry any harm. The sun was sinking fast and their exit time was rapidly approaching. Their group was taking the last Portkey from this site, and the valley below was now nearly devoid of everything, from spectator stands to Quidditch goalposts to concession stands.

But there was one other problem: there was also no sign of Ron.

Claudius and Tavish took another fretful glance at the sunset, then turned to the four teenagers in front of them.

"Your brother said he'd meet you here?" Tavish asked Fred and George, who both nodded.

"Likes the girls, does he?" Tavish continued, chuckling. "Because, you know, havin' a sixteen-year-old wizard run off into the woods after a sweet young lass isn't that unusual in our book. Oh- the things we've seen workin' this job..."

George glanced nervously at Hermione before answering and, for once, didn't think it was a good time to joke about it. "No-no, I don't think that was it."

A bit touchy after Tavish's implication, Hermione spoke up. "Ron knows this girl a little. He seems to think she's a bit-mental. He probably went to find her just to make sure she was going to be okay."

"Oh,_ I _see how it is _now_," Tavish replied. He raised his eyebrows at Claudius, still smirking.

It was probably for the best that Tavish missed the look Hermione shot toward him then.

"Well, thank goodness, we've had no sign of anyone who wants to bother Mr. Potter, here. But here's what we need to do," Claudius began, changing the subject. "If your brother isn't back in twenty minutes, we need to send the rest of you back with the Portkey at the designated time. As soon as you've left, we'll notify the Ministry that he's out there, and they'll send us some help to find him. I'm sure he'll be fine, but this way you'll all be safe, too, back at Hogwarts."

The four friends looked at one another, silently agreeing they needed to talk.

"Okay," Fred said too agreeably. "We'll just go sit over here and wait."

The four of them walked across the clearing to an outcropping of rocks, hoping they were far enough away so the watchwizards couldn't overhear anything.

"So, what do you think?" George asked quietly.

"I think Ron is a stupid git who needs to get his arse back here _now_," Fred said.

"Well, besides that," Harry agreed. "We have to decide if we're going back or staying here-because if we're staying, we also need a plan to get out of here." He looked toward the two watchwizards, who were waiting uneasily.

"If _we_go back without Ron, we're as good as dead anyway," Fred said, apparently certain of what his parents would say.

"Yeah, we'd have to stay here in exile and live with the leprechauns, I reckon," George said. "It would definitely be less dangerous than going back and telling Mum we've lost him."

"Well, I'm not leaving him here if we can help it," Harry said, clearly having decided already. "We don't know what's going on with that girl, Valeria. If he's not back by now-something's up."

Though Hermione was very worried about Ron, she was just as worried about Harry. "That's exactly why I think_ you_should go back to Hogwarts, Harry. Ron as much as told us you were in danger. You already know about the dementors Ron sees with her in her mind. We don't know what else she could spring on you."

"But look at her," Harry protested. "She's scared to death. She's run away. How could she be dangerous?"

"That's the problem. It's what we _don't_know that could hurt you," Hermione stated.

Harry's mind was made up. "I'm staying, Hermione," he said sulkily.

Hermione sighed and gave in to the fact that she probably wasn't going to change his mind, even in the face of reason-she knew Harry too well. He could be just as stubborn as Ron sometimes, and when they both had their minds made up together, they were impossible.

"So- you're going back, right?" Fred asked Hermione.

Hermione was surprised he'd even ask. "Of course not! Ron would never leave_ me_out here alone." Her tone of voice told the boys there would be no argument with her, either.

Harry, Fred, and George began discussing their escape, while Hermione leaned back on the rocks. She shifted around on her rucksack, trying to make it more comfortable-it had been such a long day, and she was very tired. She rested her head and closed her eyes-just for a moment, she promised herself. But she found she didn't like trying to rest her mind-all it wanted to do was think of reasons to worry about Ron and why he wasn't back._ And what if he did run after that girl because...? Oh, that was ridiculous! Stupid, dirty-minded old men, anyway! _The worry firmly ingrained in her own thoughts now, she was struggling to sit up a bit and ignore it when another thought invaded her mind.

*Worried about something, eh? I could feel it all the way from here.*

"Ron!" Hermione said loudly, causing Fred, George, and Harry to stop mid-sentence and stare at her. *Where are you? They want us to leave in a few minutes.*

*I'm at the edge of the wood in the valley on the other side of the hill. You know where that lookout tower is that you can see on the top of the hill from the Portkey site? There's a valley beyond it, but I'm at the west end, toward the ocean .*

*Did you find her?* Hermione thought to him.

*Well, I know where she is. I haven't talked to her yet. From the hillside I watched her run inside this little stone house near the cliffs. But I don't know if she's alone. I still need to find out what's going on with all this I can feel from her-the dementors and what it all has to do with Harry. No wonder she's suicidal. * Ron thought back. *Is Harry okay?*

*Yes. We're all fine. But how will you ever get back in time? Maybe we can tell the watchwizards, and they can postpone the Portkey time or something.* Hermione was quickly trying to think of an answer to the problem.

*That's why I wanted to let you know I was okay, and tell you all to go on back to Hogwarts without me. I'll be fine. I'll get to Dad or something tomorrow and we'll arrange something. There's got to be a town or something around here somewhere. You three need to get Harry back to Hogwarts before anything happens.*

During the whole telempathic conversation, the only thing Harry, Fred, and George had heard was the first word. They could tell Hermione was involved in thinking deeply about something from the expressions crossing her face, but they had no idea what was going on in her mind. She finally noticed their concerned stares.

"He's okay," Hermione told them. "But he's not going to make it back. He's clear over in the next valley from that hill with the tower." She pointed at the crumbling lookout tower. 

Harry looked toward the tower, but Fred and George just stared at Hermione in awe.

George finally found the words to ask. "Ron's-talking to you?"

"Well, sort of forming his thoughts in my mind, yes, " Hermione responded. "I don't have time to explain it right now. But yes, he's told me where he is. He wants us to go back without him."

"He wants us to go back without him?" Harry repeated. "Er, tell him 'no'. He wasn't here for the vote, and we all voted to stay here together, so he's out of luck."

Ron was firm with his next thought to her. *Tell Harry 'yes', you all need to go, so I can make sure you're all safe from whatever is going on here. As far as I can tell, no one's trying to get to me, so I'll be fine.*

Hermione sighed. Ron could hear Harry through her, but not the other way around, so she had to interpret Ron's messages to them. "Ron says for us to go, he's staying. He'll get in touch with his dad tomorrow, or after he finds out what that girl has to do with Harry."

"Tell Ron I'm not-" started Harry.

"Enough!" Hermione interrupted. "You two can argue it out some other time, but not with my brain, thank you very much. Okay, so all of you are determined to stay, right?" Hermione asked all three boys.

Harry, Fred, and George nodded in agreement.

*You're outvoted, Ron, plain and simple. We're staying, all of us,* Hermione thought back. *_If_we can come up with a plan to get away before the departure time, that is."

*Hermione, there's no reason for you to stay. Maybe you should go back and tell Dumbledore-* Ron suggested, sounding worried about her.

*_ALL OF US-PLAN ON STAYING! * _Hermione responded tersely. *Now, are you out in the open?*

There was a pause. Ron must have sensed the issue about her staying was closed. *Yeah, looks like it. Why?*

*Because I'm thinking if a couple of us can distract the two watchwizards up here, the others can watch for you to send up a spark- to let us know where you are. I think we can see over the hill below if we go over to the edge.* Hermione stated.

*Worth a try. You'll have to tell me when.* Ron advised her.

"Oi! All of you! Come on over here now!" Claudius called the four of them, standing next to the cleared dirt area where they had arrived. "Bring all your gear!"

*They're calling us now, Ron. We still don't have a plan to get out of here-I don't know if we'll have to go back or not. If we do end up at Hogwarts, we'll get to Dumbledore immediately so he can find a way to get you back, too. I have to go now-hope we see you soon,* Hermione thought. * You'd better end the connection now.*

It was quiet for a moment and Hermione thought Ron had done as she'd told him, but she still could feel the warm, floaty feeling. *Hey, Hermione-don't tell them this part.*

Hermione's mind began processing all the things just the two of them knew -he must have wanted to tell her something about Valeria's suicide, or something he didn't want Harry to worry about. *All right. What is it?*

*If you're still going to try and stay instead of going back to Hogwarts- and if you manage to get away-* Ron paused in his thoughts.

Hermione was getting impatient as the watchwizards kept calling her. *Yes?*

*Just get here fast. I_**-**_need to know- you'll be okay.* Ron had a little trouble getting it out, but something about the way he thought it to her made her blush. The connection ended then.

The four friends did as they'd been told, thinking they might not have a choice as to whether to stay or go unless they came up with a plan- fast.

As they approached Claudius, they also realized they had missed something else while they were talking at the rocks. Elver Beeles had returned and was conversing with the two watchwizards as Harry, Hermione, Fred, and George approached.

"Yes, sir, just gets easier with practice," Beeles said jovially. "Glad my family went on home without me, because it takes a bit of time. But changing the weather's going to be as easy as changing my robes one day. Can't you feel the winds now- off the ocean? Fog 'll be rollin' in here pretty good later tonight. The local Muggles'll never know what possessed the weather to give them a day of sunshine, but I'm sure they'll be all the more thankful for it."

Claudius pulled himself away from the conversation and walked over to the four friends. "So, who has the Portkey?"

"I do," George stated, holding up the polka-dotted fishing hat.

"Okay, about five minutes to go. Just wanted you to be ready when the time came. Wait right here. I'll tell you all when to touch," the watchwizard instructed.

Hermione tried to listen carefully to the conversation between the watchwizards and Beeles-Harry was doing the same. She could overhear Ron's name mentioned once in a while, but could not make out the rest. Claudius and Tavish seemed to be in a disagreement about something, but once it had become almost an argument, the men sensed the teenagers staring at them, and lowered their voices. A moment later, Beeles signaled the other two he would stay with the Portkey travelers while Tavish and Claudius kept at it.

Beeles strolled aimlessly over to the group of teenagers. "Going back to Hogwarts, eh? It's been a long time since I was there..."

When it seemed Beeles was going to launch into a long, nostalgic conversation about their school, Fred started fidgeting where he stood. He turned and winked at his twin and the rest of the group when Beeles couldn't see, then swung back to talk to the older man. "Mr. Beeles, if we've got just a minute before we go-I need to go see a man about a dog-now!"

"What?" Beeles asked, feeling interrupted and confused.

"You know-too much butterbeer? I'll be back in a flash," Fred pleaded, looking desperate.

"Oh, go ahead then," Beeles chuckled. "Just be quick about it."

Fred hurried off into the woods, which were becoming quite dark now in the long shadows of the dusk.

Beeles continued his one-man conversation about his days at Hogwarts, while the rest of the group stood nervously and wondered if Fred's plan was going to work.

A few minutes later, Fred returned from the woods, looking excited. "Hey-I think it's Ron! I heard something down the hill, thrashing about in the woods. Maybe we can find him now!" Fred called to Beeles from the edge of the forest.

"Well, if he gets himself up here in the next ninety seconds, he'll be going back with you. Otherwise, you'll all be back at Hogwarts in-I'd say three minutes, tops," Beeles replied. "Now-quickly- over here, son! Let's go!"

"But my brother-Ron-I don't want to go back without him. Do you know how much trouble I'll be in with my parents if I've lost my little brother?" Fred pleaded, trying to buy time.

"Sorry, let's go. Come on," Beeles said.

"But-" Fred and George both started to protest anew at the same time, but Claudius and Tavish apparently left their differences behind when it seemed their charges were resisting returning to Hogwarts.

"Is there some problem, gentlemen?" Claudius said ominously. Even though he had been quite nice to them when it was just a matter of working security for the match, it was apparent from his stern presence now that he could be quite a strict and effective watchwizard as well. Now that Harry could be in danger, and Ron was lost, there had been a definite change in Claudius' mood.

"No. No problem," Fred mumbled and resignedly walked over next to George.

"After you've all left, Tavish and I will go down to see if the main office is still open. They'll be Disapparating soon and we need to get a message to the Ministry. Doesn't look like Ron's going to make it in time to transport with you, so it'll be just you four. We'll notify Professor Dumbledore as well, but I trust you'll all fill him in with what you know, too," Claudius said. "All right- ready-" Claudius looked at his watch.

The four friends stood in a circle, facing one another, George holding the orange fishing hat in the center.

Hermione looked over at Harry, who appeared almost as panicked as she was.

"Harry, what do we _do?" _she whispered urgently.

"I don't know what we _can_do now," Harry whispered back, looking around them.

Beeles, Claudius, and Tavish stood guard just outside their circle, obviously making sure no one changed their mind about going at the last minute.

"But Ron-" Hermione persisted.

"Now touch. Have a safe journey," Claudius said loudly, as Harry, Hermione, and Fred hesitantly reached toward the hat. "Touch _now_please!" he said insistently, when he saw them falter.

The three saw no choice and did as they were told. Their hands warmed where they made contact with the fishing hat, and the familiar pull behind their navels began.

"Look's like Ron's on his own," Harry said tensely. "For a while, anyway." He swallowed nervously. "He'll be okay, Hermione. Ron'll be okay."

But the look on Harry's face told Hermione her friend was far less certain than his words would have her believe.


	13. Contagious Confusion

**~ Chapter 13 ~  
Contagious Confusion**

Hermione was amazed that she could think at all in the whirlwind of color that was swirling around her as the Portkey carried them back to Hogwarts. But the thought never left her mind that Ron was now alone- hundreds of miles from Hogwarts, without any way to get back to the school.

_SLAM! _She felt herself smack into something almost flat. It wasn't the ground; it was upright, more like a wall. Hermione felt the impact of several bodies hit the flatness next to her, bumping knees, elbows, and shoulders. Before her mind could register what had happened, the pull behind her navel began anew, and she assumed they would be at Hogwarts in a matter of moments.

Feet hitting the earth, Hermione could not remain standing this time, and she held out her arm to break her fall. Harry had landed next to her, almost managing to keep his balance, but dropping to the ground on his knees nonetheless. Fred and George were trying to untangle themselves several feet away.

From her vantage point on the ground, Hermione looked up as the others were busy looking down. She gasped and tried to speak, "Oh, my..."

Harry heard her gasp and followed her gaze. "Wha-What happened?"

"I don't know," Hermione answered, still stunned. "George, Fred-did you guys do something wrong?"

"Wrong? No," George said. "Why-_damn!"_George had obviously just seen why she was asking.

The fact that they had landed in a clearing in a forest was not too surprising. Certainly, they could have landed near the Forbidden Forest on Hogwarts property-it looked a bit like this.

But they didn't land anywhere near Hogwarts.

They had landed right back where they started-at the Quidditch Portkey site in Ireland.

"How did _that_ happen?" Fred asked, gawking at the area around them along with the others. "And all I did when it was _my _turn with the Portkey was land you in a thorn bush," he said to George accusingly.

"I _didn't_do anything wrong! You can't make a Portkey go wrong once it's set-we've tried, remember?" George said defensively. "Hey-did anyone feel something strange while we were in motion?"

"Yeah. Like we hit up against something," Harry offered. "A wall, or-I don't know..."

"Did everybody feel that?" George asked, looking towards Hermione and Fred. They nodded. "That _never_ happened before when we traveled by Portkey-that_ I _know of."

The Weasley twins had had some experience traveling with their family by Portkey, and Harry and Hermione had done it several times each. But none of them had enough experience with one to find out what went wrong or how to fix it.

"Well, I guess there's nothing to do but see if the watchwizards know-" Hermione began, standing now and visually scouring the area. "Where did they go?"

Fred, George, and Harry scanned the area as well from where they stood.

"They're gone-already?" Harry asked, looking toward the sunset. "I think the light's pretty much the same as before-we couldn't have been gone that long."

"Well," said Fred, suddenly smiling. "All I can say is-guess we don't have to desert Ronniekins after all!"

"But- what about Harry?" Hermione questioned.

"What about me?" Harry asked dryly.

"We still don't know who's trying to find you, or what they're trying to do. It's not safe for you here," Hermione explained.

"Do we have a choice?" Harry retorted. "Besides, we already passed the Portkey time, didn't we?" he asked of the twins.

"I'm not sure," George started. "But if we already left, then came back, I'd have to say 'yes'. We've already used it for this time. Won't be able to use it again for another- what time do you have, Fred? Magical or Muggle?"

Fred's watch was set to Magical Mode instead of Muggle Mode. It only said "You're grounded if you're not at Hogwarts by now," so he had to judge by the amount of light still glowing over the horizon instead. "My watch is set to Magical Mode, but it's likely about seven o'clock, I'd say."

George was calculating in his head. "That would mean it'll work in the same number of hours as the time it was set for, squared. So if it was set for seven, then times seven. We can try again in forty nine hours." He then reached to adjust the stem of his watch, setting it to Muggle Mode to make sure the hour count was correct, in case they needed it later.

"But what if we come back again?" Hermione asked.

George shrugged. "Then we do. I haven't a clue as to why we came back this time."

Hermione had been looking into the woods, as the boys were staring at the sun and deciding what time it was. A movement caught her eye at the edge of the trees.

"What was that?" Hermione asked suddenly, causing the boys to all look where she was squinting. She thought she'd seen a person-someone who looked vaguely like Beeles, but Hermione decided the dusk, the dark forest, and her fatigue must have been playing tricks on her eyes.

"What?" Harry asked, visually scanning the area where she was looking.

"Nothing. Sorry," Hermione said quietly.

"Hermione, which direction did Ron say he was headed?" Harry asked.

"He's southwest of here-on the other side of the hill."

"Well, can you ring him up, or whatever you do, and tell him we're still here?" Fred asked.

Hermione looked at Fred strangely. "I don't 'ring him up'. This isn't anything that I can do from my side. He's the one who has to locate me. I just have to be really emotional about something, and he'll find me."

"Well, carry on then," George suggested. "Can you be emotional while we're walking?"

Hermione just rolled her eyes, and headed off toward the southwest.

# # #

*Can they see it now?* Ron thought to Hermione, holding his wand straight up as high as he could, and mumbling the spell again. A small fountain of red sparks shot from the wand's tip up through the trees.

*"Do you see anything at all?"*Hermione called to them.

Ron could hear Hermione calling to Harry, Fred, and George from his side of the connection. Hermione had let Ron know earlier that the four of them had taken the better part of an hour to walk the distance from the Portkey site to the hillside area just west of the castle ruins. They were now trying to find exactly where Ron was before it got any darker, so they would at least all be together for the night. _  
_  
Ron followed the course of the last sparks with his gaze. The dusk was setting in fully now-anything on the ground now appeared black. The only light at all came from the early evening sky; with the huge fog bank Ron could now see moving toward them from over the ocean, he knew that light would be going fast.

*Er, Ron? Sorry to say this, but-one more time?* Hermione said quietly.

*Ergh! Are they blind?* Ron thought irritably to her. *Okay, if they miss this, forget it!* Ron moved out into the middle of the clearing near the foot of the hillside. Maybe it was just being out here alone in a dark, unfamiliar forest, but he had a sense that something else was amiss and he didn't want to announce his presence too obviously.

Ron lifted his wand in the air, pointing it skyward again. Concentrating hard, he said loudly this time, _"Relashio!"_ The blast of red sparks from his wand shot no less than thirty feet high, maintaining the illusion of a spilling fountain for at least two minutes or so.  
His intense focus on the spell kept him from noticing the crunching sounds at the edge of the clearing behind him.

A loud crash and the sound of two small boulders smacking together and rolling through the brush made Ron jump, whirl towards the sound, and ready his wand. Squawking birds had flown from their roosts at the racket, making his heart pound even harder.

Suddenly he heard a much more familiar sound that at once made him feel relieved, then quite promptly, furious. It was the sound of Fred and George trying to stifle a laugh as they stood just out of sight at the edge of the clearing.

Ron stalked off toward the noise with a dangerous look on his face. "I could have seriously hurt you two, you know," he said tersely as he approached them. "In fact, maybe I still will-no one would be the wiser, way out here." Even in the near-dark, Ron managed to walk right up to them, and greeted them with twin punches in their arms. "At first I thought you guys would never get here, and now I'm sort of sorry you have." Ron could still feel his heart pounding in his chest.

"Oh-now, Ron. We're sorry. Won't happen again- today," George promised, still trying to stifle a laugh, and having to look up a bit at his 'little' brother.

"How much longer _is_that?" Fred asked his twin, rubbing his own arm where Ron had punched him.

"Four hours, maybe," George responded.

"Hmmm...okay," Fred agreed. "I can make it that long. Awfully dark here, Ronnie. Who turned out the lights?"

Ron scowled at them, ignoring their attempts to be amusing. "Where are Harry and Hermione?"

"Why? Worried about them out there in the dark forest?" Fred asked.

"No, Fred. I think he's worried about them out there _together_in the dark forest," George explained.

"Shut _up!"_Ron said. "You guys have been here for maybe two minutes, and you're already a pain!"

"Thank you! We've been trying to improve our S.O.A.-Speed of Annoyance!" Fred said, smiling, as George nodded.

Harry and Hermione appeared from the shadows of the forest a few dozen feet behind the twins.

"You've found him!" Harry said, sounding relieved.

"Yeah. Don't give them too much credit. They almost did me in with a heart attack before you got here," Ron said, giving his brothers accusing glances. He pulled out his wand, which he'd pushed into his belt momentarily to punch his brothers and ordered,_ "Lumos!"_

Ron smiled at his two best friends. "I'm glad to see _you two_, anyway. Nice job with that 'intuition', Hermione."

He gave her a meaningful look that rested on her for several seconds. It had been easy to find her mind-he'd made an attempt about fifteen minutes after he thought they would have transported, had the Portkey to Hogwarts worked. The several times that he'd needed to connect with her telempathically since the beach, she'd been willing to let the connection come through. Yet he felt there was a point inside of her at which she stopped him and held back-a part of her was still unwilling to risk letting him get too close.

Ron's gaze at her did not go unnoticed. She smiled back at him, blushing, then covered her mouth as another yawn escaped.

"Now that we're all here, we should figure out what to do for tonight," Ron began. "You can't see it now, but down that way is a little stone house. That's where the girl is-"

"Valeria," Harry interrupted. "Her name's Valeria, she said."

"Valeria? Guess she never told me her name all those times," Ron replied.

Fred and George peered quizzically at their little brother.

"Yeah, I reckon I need to fill you two in on a few things," Ron said. "Actually, I think all of you need to hear what I found out today. I don't think we ought to go down there where-Valeria- is, until everyone knows what we're dealing with. Besides, I have no idea if she's alone, or if she has weapons, or spells ready-we need to find out first. Especially for Harry's sake."

"Yeah. Maybe you _could_let me in on that, since now you're saying she's dangerous to me," Harry said.

Ron saw movement at the edges of the darkness, where the light from his wand stopped. Great patches of fog were beginning to blow by and over the five friends, making them shiver like they did at Hogwarts if they happened to wander through one of the castle ghosts. The fog was beginning to roll in thickly now, and soon they might lose their bearings completely.

"You know what? I'm not so sure we should be standing out in the open like this, or talking where anyone can hear," Ron said cautiously.

"What? Why?" George said. "There's no one around here for miles-unless some of the people from the match are still there-and I doubt that, this long after the game."

"I don't know. Maybe it's just from being alone for so long until you all got here," Ron said, "but it just feels creepy to me-something's weird out here." He noticed Hermione was looking cold and tired as she tried to pull her cloak closer around herself. "Besides, it's going to be freezing if we stay outside. Come on. I think I saw a place we can go."

Hermione looked at Ron wearily, adjusting the rucksack straps on her shoulders as if they were uncomfortable. "Is it very far?" she asked, trying to sound light-hearted.

"Not really," Ron said. "But in this fog, we'd better get there while I can still find it. Here-give me your rucksack, Hermione." He held out his hand to collect it.

"No, it's okay. You have your own, and you have to lead-" she protested, pulling away.

"Give me your rucksack _now_, Hermione," Ron insisted.

"You can carry mine," Fred offered, starting to shrug his off.

Ron just gave him an irritable look, and moved closer to Hermione, reaching for her rucksack strap at the shoulder, and starting to tug at it.

She gave in and wriggled out of the straps, apparently too tired to argue at the moment.

Ron slung Hermione's rucksack onto his shoulder over his own and held his wand out briefly, swinging it around in front of him to see where he was. "I don't know if we _all _should use our wands, but someone in the back needs to," Ron said. "There's lots of rocks and roots and stuff-watch out and stay close."

George obliged by lighting his wand. "I'll be the light of your life, Fred," he said teasingly.

"Well, then, don't make light of it, George," Fred answered.

Harry rolled his eyes at the twins, then moved up behind Ron. "How can they keep that up when they're this tired?"

"They never run out," Ron answered dryly. "But the jokes keep getting worse the later it gets. Ready, then?" he asked, as everyone nodded. Ron discreetly reached for Hermione's hand and led the group off across the clearing, with George and Fred chuckling and whispering about _that_ bit of scandal once all the 'light' jokes had run thin.

# # #

Valeria paced back and forth across the room, wishing she had gone through with the suicide attempt several nights ago. The oil lamp was burning low and would soon flicker into complete darkness, but she didn't care. She hardly noticed.

It hadn't worked. The plan hadn't worked. She almost had Potter talked into it-almost convinced him to help her. Tom was right-Potter at least pretended he wanted to help. But then Potter had to go and call his friends in-those must have been the same friends Tom had said would hurt him if they were all together.

But Tom didn't tell her about the boy with the red hair. She should have known he and Potter were mixed up together in this somehow. Valeria wasn't sure how it happened, but she recognized the red-haired boy from the visits to her mind. It was strange-whenever the Muertos wanted her to see where Potter was, the voice of the red-haired boy appeared. She'd heard his voice so often-earlier, it had been her voice of hope-telling her to fight the evil, to fend off the Muertos, that if she held on he was going to try and help her. She had wanted to trust him and believe in him so badly. Now she wasn't sure what to think-was it a trick? Was _he_evil like Tom had said Potter was?

All she knew was that he had followed her, chasing her across the field and through the forest. She'd had a good head start, thank goodness, and he'd never managed to catch up with her, but she could hear him crashing through the brush on the hillside above the whole time. Then when she'd reached the cottage, he'd never appeared outside. She was at once curious as to why he'd stopped, and also thankful that he had.

The Muertos were furious with her. They had forced their angry thoughts on her as soon as she started running from Potter. The whole time, they were threatening and promising to make her do things she would hate. They forced pain and darkness and despair into her mind, making it more difficult to run from the red-haired boy. But she managed to run, anyway. Escape was the only thing in her life that made sense right now.

Mercifully, the Muertos had been called away. She had no idea what had caused them to leave. But her guess was that Tom wanted to know what had happened during and after that game-and she already knew how he'd feel about that.

Valeria had no idea who to trust now. Everything felt as if it was crashing in on her.

The worry, the anger, and the fear all mixed together were smothering her. Again she wished the Muertos hadn't pulled her from the cliff's edge that night. It would have been so much easier to jump than face this.

Breathing fast and shallow, Valeria felt her head began to spin. The color went from her vision and she felt herself begin to feel faint. She sat down on the bed and held her face in her hands.

*Valeria? Is that your name?- Valeria?* the tired-sounding voice thought to her already jumbled mind. It was him, the red-haired boy. Now that she'd actually seen him, his image was etched in her mind from their mutual recognition at the stadium. She could envision him talking with her. *Are they there with you now? The beings with the black cloaks?*

She wasn't sure whether to trust him. Maybe he just wanted to know if she was alone, so he could come force some other gruesome task upon her. But still she wanted to believe in him somehow. *No. They're not here with me, or in my mind. They were called away.* Valeria paused, afraid to hear the answer to the next question. *You're... out there, aren't you?*

*Yeah. I'm out here-and I need to talk to you. But I can't if the dement-, I mean, the beings are there with you. Are they coming back later, or tomorrow? Because my fri-* the boy's voice stopped momentarily, *because I can't talk with you if the beings are there. I can't leave where I am tonight, either-it's too foggy. I'd never find the way.*

*Wait. He must have told you _my_name. What's yours?* Valeria thought to him, not wanting him to have any advantage, however small.

*Oh. Yeah. It's Ron. Just Ron.*

*Well-Ron- I never know just _when_the Muertos are coming-the beings. So I can't promise you they won't be here. Maybe you should just leave, because I already know they're really angry with me. I don't know what they're going to do to me.* She tried to sound brave and forceful, but it didn't last long. *It probably doesn't matter, anyway,* Valeria thought dejectedly.

*What? How can you say it doesn't matter?* Ron thought back, incredulous. *Of course, it matters! Don't you know what those- beings- can do to a person? Hasn't anyone told you? And as for my leaving, I'm not sure that I can. So you may as well expect me to be there tomorrow. I can feel that you're really upset, and really afraid. Don't you dare do anything to hurt yourself tonight. You hold on.*

*Okay, I'll try,* Valeria thought back weakly.

*Promise me. You hold on. I can get to you now-well, tomorrow. We can get you some help-and we will. Don't give up now,* Ron thought encouragingly. *Promise me you'll hold on until I can talk to you.*

Valeria felt that tiny little ray of hope that she'd felt some of the other times that the boy had connected with her. It certainly was a much, much better feeling than what the Muertos made her feel. She decided if she was going to have to trust someone, it might as well be Ron; in fact, she'd have to trust him just to get herself through the night.

*Okay,* Valeria thought to him. *I promise. Until tomorrow.*

# # #

Ron woke with a start. His face was freezing, his right shoulder and back were shoved up against something much too hard to be his four-poster at Hogwarts, and he was surprised he had managed to sleep at all sitting up this straight.

Without moving, he blinked dully at what lay in front of him. _Now I remember._He opened his eyes wide this time and tried to focus on his surroundings. Inside a small natural cave in a group of huge granite rocks, everything around him was a dim gray. The gray-white rock was only a shade lighter in color than all the foggy air he could see outside the small opening in the ceiling of the cave. There was a bit of light outside, but the fog was so thick it was impossible to tell if it was daybreak or noon.

Trying to move a little, Ron found his body was achy and stiff all over, but less so on his warm left side, where Hermione was slumped against him, sleeping soundly. _  
_  
He visually checked the remainder of the group as well. Satisfied that everyone had made it through the night safely, Ron recalled that they had talked until quite late. They had gathered themselves around one of Hermione's famous little bluebell fires inside the cave. Even though she hadn't dared to make it large, in case it could be seen from afar, she did her best to create it extra nice and hot to keep the chill of the fog cloaks from their backpacks (Ron was, for once, thankful for his mum's insistence on taking them), they huddled beneath them to discuss their predicament.

The group had shared everything they already knew that might help them survive their dilemma. That included what Ron had found out through the telempathic connections with Valeria and how much danger he thought Harry might be in. Then there was the issue of the Portkey problem. Ron even felt it necessary to tell them all a bit about Valeria's attempted suicide, since they might all be in contact with her in some way.

A loud rumble in his stomach caused Ron to grab at his middle with the arm Hermione wasn't laying on. Dinner last night had been Ron's last Sssnecklace, broken into five equal pieces. It hadn't looked too tempting after spending the afternoon wrapped around Ron's bicep, especially after his chase through the woods behind Valeria (at least there was only a _little_ bit of orange fuzz left stuck to it from his Cannons shirt, and not _too_much miscellaneous foliage). But it was the best and only thing they had to eat, and it had gotten them through-until now.

Ron felt something jostle his side. His own movement had disturbed Hermione a bit, and without waking, she grabbed at the cloak that had slipped down in the night. Checking to see that none of the others were awake yet, Ron reached across himself to pull the cloak up around her. A small clump of honey-colored curls fell into her face and he pushed them back, accidentally grazing her cheek with his fingertips. Hermione stirred once more at his touch, then snuggled back into the coziness of him and settled down again. He was amazed at how the warmth and comfort of having her next to him could make him feel.

Just then, Harry sat up and squinted about the cave, looking confused.

"I'd say 'good morning', but I'm not sure it qualifies," Ron said.

"Yeah-I'd definitely vote 'no' so far," Harry replied, wincing and twisting his head around, his neck apparently stiff from sleeping where he'd fallen over against Hermione's leg.

"Guess it's time to wake everyone else and see what the day brings," Ron said.

"Yeah. Nothing like a good night's sleep to get you prepared for what the world has to offer," Harry said dryly.

# # #

"I think I should be the only one to go right now," Ron said, as they sat in a tiny clearing next to the creek. "At least until I talk to her."

Finding that the fog had risen somewhat, the little group had emerged from the cave earlier and were surprised to see that they were still about halfway up the hillside, looking down into a long, narrow valley. The valley ran in front of the castle ruins to the east of them, while a tiny stone cottage lay to the west at the crest of some very high cliffs leading down to the ocean. The cottage and the castle were the only evidence of human life, past or present, that they could see.

An old trail, mostly covered with foliage by now, wound its way down to a small, rickety bridge over a bubbling creek. From the bridge, they spied the clearing and decided that at least they could get a drink and splash their faces, even though what they really would have liked was a nice, full Hogwarts breakfast table. (Fred and George insisted on talking about every course in detail, despite everyone else's complaints.)

"What about the dementors?" Harry asked. "What if they're in there with her? Are they just in her mind, or can they be with her physically, too?"

"I'm not sure," Ron responded. "She used to think they were just in her mind, but when she tried to kill herself, she told me it was them who pulled her away from the cliffs. So I'm not sure _she's _even sure. But I need to find out before we all go down there. Maybe she has some way to help us, too, like Floo powder, or even a fireplace that's connected so we can contact Hogwarts or the Ministry."

"Maybe one of us should go with you," Hermione suggested. "Not Harry, of course."

"No," Ron replied slowly. "I think I should go alone at first. She's kind of- you know, mental. I'm afraid she might panic if even two people walked in on her. She was really upset last night."

"Last night?" Harry questioned.

"Yeah. I connected with her for a bit. She knows I'm here-that I'm coming," Ron said, then pointed toward the direction of the cottage. "Look. You can see the side of the cottage through the trees right there. I'll signal green sparks if I think it's clear for all of you to come down, red sparks if there's a problem."

Ron noticed Hermione had been looking at him strangely. At first, it was just an odd look when he said he'd connected with Valeria, but then she had a serious look of concern when he'd mentioned the red sparks.

"What if there _are_no sparks because you're hurt, or-worse? What if she's a really powerful Dark witch or something?" Hermione asked tentatively.

Ron thought for a moment and decided it would do no good to even consider that. "That's easy-I'll just turn on the animal magnetism, and then hex her while she's still completely dazzled."

Hermione frowned at his nonchalance, but her eyes were still filled with worry.

"It'll be okay," Ron told her, trying to sound convincing. He leaned against her side and discreetly squeezed her hand, wishing he had the nerve to hold her in front of everyone. He turned to face them all. "Wish me luck!"

"This is Ireland," Fred said. "Everyone's got the luck of the Irish, so a little extra will do you no good at all."

"And thank _you_ for all the bloody well-wishing, Fred," Ron said sarcastically, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder and heading off through the trees.

# # #

Albus Dumbledore stood leaning against his desk, poring over the article in the_ Daily Prophet_for the fifth time. He was too disturbed to be able to sit calmly, and it was rare that anything upset him this thoroughly. On the other hand, perhaps it was nothing, just teenagers feeling their oats and refusing to come home before curfew. He wanted to believe it was the latter-it had certainly happened before at Hogwarts.

Still, there it was in black and white: _"_** Ireland Quidditch Match Attack-Rogue Dementors 'Kiss' Eighteen"**. What worried the Headmaster most was that this meant a group of dementors was working in concert-the article mentioned more than five-and once they had organized, they were a much more formidable enemy. Plus, these were dementors that had already defected from their posts at Azkaban, presumably the rebels, and undoubtedly the most unpredictable of the lot.

Dumbledore read it once more before roughly folding the paper and throwing it on top of his desk. He began to pace back and forth across his office, as he had been doing for most of the morning.

Hearing his office door swish open, he watched as Minerva McGonagall strode in through the outer chamber.

"Albus, I've just spoken with Arthur and Molly Weasley," she began. "They haven't heard anything either. Of course, Molly's quite upset already-says she could almost imagine the twins pulling something like this, but not the other three. Arthur says he's been trying all the channels he can in the Ministry, but it hasn't been long enough for them to be worried about a group of lost teenagers yet. All they know for sure is that none of our students were among those who were found...attacked."

"That seems to be the consensus from everyone there I've talked to, as well, I'm afraid," Dumbledore replied. "Even when I explained to Fudge that Harry's with them, he seemed to pass it off as an underage lack of responsibility-which, though with that group of students is unlikely, I must agree is still possible."

Suddenly, a loud crash was heard from the corridor outside, after which someone with a deep, booming voice shouted the password, "Dragonlips!" As soon as the first chamber door edged open just a bit, Sirius Black shoved his way through it, charging toward the two Hogwarts professors with all the subtlety of a rampaging bull.

"Albus, how could we let him do this?" Sirius demanded, his arms flailing about as he thrashed around inside the office. "How could we have been so _stupid_as to let him leave Hogwarts? Dementors! You know what dementors do to Harry! What if they realized it was him and dragged him off somewhere so he couldn't be identified? What if they've just left him somewhere in a soulless heap? What if-"

Dumbledore held up a hand to Sirius in hopes of calming him even a little. "Sirius-I'm just as worried as you are-about all of them. I'm attempting to keep myself from thinking the worst, and hoping it's just as the Ministry says- a misunderstanding of time, or just plain old teenage ignorance of how serious a problem this could be." Dumbledore considered pointing out how dangerous it was for Sirius to be out and about like this, but he remained silent, knowing that at a time like this such a warning would be futile.

"No. No," Sirius continued ranting, causing Fawkes to ruffle his feathers and eye Black suspiciously. "Harry's too smart for that. He wouldn't do that. And if it turns out he did, I'll kill him myself."

Dumbledore couldn't help but find Sirius' reversal of thought about Harry a bit amusing, even in the solemnity of the moment. "You know, I don't think intelligence has anything to do with it. As I recall, there were four very intelligent students who drove a certain Headmaster mad about returning on time for years." He shot a meaningful look at Sirius, who seemed to know exactly who he meant. "And it's still quite possible there's nothing wrong except five teenagers being a bit headstrong. So let's calm ourselves, and see what we can do to resolve the situation."

"What's been done so far?" Sirius demanded.

Dumbledore paused a moment to summarize their efforts, then nodded toward McGonagall, who'd been listening to the two of them quietly. "Minerva's just spoken to the Weasleys-they haven't heard anything, but Molly's posted herself at home in case the students try to get through. Arthur's doing what he can through the Ministry. Except he has to step lightly because I've spoken to Fudge, who doesn't consider it to be much of a problem yet. I'm sure he's not giving Arthur any official support."

"That figures," Sirius growled under his breath.

"I have a call into one of the watchwizards that was the last to see our group-they're trying to locate him now," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard lightly, thinking. "Have you heard anything about Moody lately?"

"A couple of days ago," Sirius replied. "I was with Remus in Diagon Alley. Moody was trying to buy some kind of herb they need for an Anti-Freezing Potion for the Aurors in the Ukraine. He told Remus it's been ridiculously cold up there, and the usual Anti-Freeze Charms aren't holding long enough on anything-claims it's damned difficult for anyone to hold on in that weather."

"How is it that Moody's helping the Aurors? Surely they haven't re-enlisted him already-it hasn't been two years since he retired," Dumbledore noted. "Are they that desperate for help?"

Sirius managed a tiny smile. "The way he tells it, the Aurors were begging him to come back. But I got the feeling that retirement isn't agreeing too well with old Mad-Eye. He kept lurking around the encampments, and of course, they've always welcomed his advice, if not his actual help. So the captains started finding things for him to do-small things, but nothing undignified. It just turned into this kind of liaison position he's handling for them now. I'm not sure it's official, but it works well for everybody involved," Sirius explained.

"So you were with Remus when you saw Mad-Eye? I trust he didn't recognize you," Dumbledore said.

"No, I'm sure he didn't. But I drooled all over his shoe, just for old times' sake, even if he didn't know why," Sirius said. The tiny smile had almost disappeared, but there was a definite twinkle in his eye.

"I was thinking-if he could get away for a day or so, in case we need him-he's still one of our best Aurors-"

Sirius narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore. "You _are_worried, aren't you?"

Dumbledore released a short, tense sigh. "Yes, I'm afraid that in my heart, I am. This isn't like them- any of them-to just run off and leave us without word. There's either a very good reason for why they haven't returned, or they've been purposely delayed by someone. But it won't do to panic-that won't help them or us. We'll give them a little more time. I just want to make sure that if we _do_decide to make a move and go after them, that we have the best people to do it with."

Dumbledore turned to Professor McGonagall. "Have you spoken with the Grangers yet?"

"No. I sent an owl, but the poor thing returned immediately without a reply, so I'm assuming they weren't at home. I'll try to send a new owl shortly, and see if we get better results." She looked a bit perplexed about something. "Albus, do I tell them about the dementors? And, if so- how?"

Dumbledore thought for a moment how difficult it would be to explain a dementor attack to two Muggle parents, even if they were fairly well-versed in the world of magic.

"Let's just-tell them the students didn't return when they were supposed to. Let them know we don't think they're in danger yet, but we're doing all we can to find out where they are and get them back. If we have to explain the dementor situation later, we will."

Professor McGonagall turned to leave, but just then the flames in the fireplace roared and intensified. As they were dying back down a bit, the Headmaster stopped her. "Minerva, wait-maybe this is the call I've been waiting for. I'd like you to hear this, too."

Dumbledore turned swiftly to Black. "Sirius-go! And stay there!" he whispered urgently, nodding his head toward the outer office chamber. The Headmaster moved so that his body was in the line of sight between the fire and the outer chamber door until Black had disappeared through the opening.

Once the flames were calmer, a pop was heard, and the image of a head appeared in the center of them.

"Headmaster Dumbledore?" the head questioned, peering through the flames until his gaze fell on the older man.

"Yes?"

"Claudius Reagan at your service, sir. I was told that you wanted to speak with me?" the watchwizard said, obviously aware of the importance of the man he was addressing.

"Yes, we do. And thank you for coming so promptly," Dumbledore said. "You may have heard from your superiors that we have some missing students. We haven't released that information to the press yet, and hope that we can trust you to make every effort to assure that this is handled in the strictest confidence."

"Of course, sir. That's part of my job," Claudius assured. "What can I help you with?"

Just then, a huge black dog came trotting through the door of the outer office chamber, panting his way up to a place near the fire.

"Excuse me, Mr. Reagan," Dumbledore said, turning to the dog. "I thought I told you to 'stay'!"

The dog, still panting, looked up at the Headmaster with a sweet, pleading, pitiful look in his eyes, his tail wagging slowly behind him.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at the dog, but relented. "Then if you stay, you'll behave yourself. And-_sit!"_

The dog complied with Dumbledore's request immediately, then turned his attention to Claudius in the fire, as did Dumbledore and McGonagall.

Dumbledore spoke. "We're trying to find out what happened the last time anyone saw the Weasley group together and I was told you were one of the watchwizards at the Portkey site. Is that true?"

"Yes, sir. I was there," Claudius replied. Though he was trying to sound confident, it was obvious to those in Dumbledore's office that the man in the flames was very uneasy about something.

"Can you tell us if everything went as planned, or was there a delay of some sort? Just what exactly happened the last time you saw them?" Dumbledore queried.

"Well, sir, _we_were actually trying to figure out what happened as well, but the four of them-"

"The four of them? But there were five," the Headmaster interrupted.

"Yes, I know, sir. Let me explain. All five of your group arrived safely in the morning. We did sporadic surveillance on them all day to make sure they were safe, as requested by Arthur Weasley and yourself, sir. Everything was going well, until it was nearly their departure time. Then, from what your students told us, the youngest Weasley boy-"

"Ron?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, sir-Ron- ran off into the forest after some girl he saw at the match."

Dumbledore exchanged glances with Professor McGonagall, thinking how unlike Ron it was to disappear chasing after some girl he didn't know. But then, he was sixteen.

"Your students were also concerned that Harry Potter was in danger, for some reason, but we saw no evidence of any danger to him specifically at any time, sir. It was approaching their Portkey time, and Ron hadn't returned, so we told them they would have to go on without him," Claudius related.

"And what did they say?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"They-did as they were told. But we could tell they didn't want to leave him behind, ma'am. They resisted touching the Portkey at the designated time, but Mr. Beeles said he made sure they did. He saw them leave for Hogwarts. What happened to them after that, I-couldn't say-exactly," Claudius finished, beads of sweat now apparent on his brow.

"Mr. Beeles? Would that be your partner?" Professor McGonagall questioned.

"Well, actually, no, ma'am," Claudius said reluctantly. "Mr. Beeles works for the M.M.S. He'd been cleaning up the weather changes that were made for the game-returning them to normal. He assured us he'd stay and make sure the students were on their way. So, Tavish and I left to go down to the league office to report Ron missing before the office was Dissolved." The watchwizard was obviously a bit fearful of what might come next.

"Is that your usual policy?" Dumbledore demanded, getting more irritable by the minute. "To leave your charges with someone else and make _them_responsible for assuring that all goes well?"

Snuffles barked loudly at Claudius several times, but was quickly silenced by a severe look from Dumbledore.

Claudius took a deep breath before responding, looking quite embarrassed and nervous. "No, sir. In fact, it's not our policy at all. My partner and I were trying to work out whether it was more important to stay with your students or get to the office to report the missing person-which, by the way, requires the signature of two watchwizards. Looking back on it, leaving them with Beeles was probably the wrong thing to do. But Mr. Beeles assured us he could handle the situation-he's a very important man, you know-and Tavish felt, I mean, we felt, it was more important to make that report."

Dumbledore and McGonagall were not at all satisfied with Claudius' answer. The tension in the office was getting thicker as the three outside of the fire absorbed the information.

"So-you're saying, then, that actually you _weren't_the last one to see them before they left for Hogwarts," Dumbledore said.

"That's correct, sir," Claudius admitted glumly. "That would have been Mr. Beeles."

Dumbledore sighed, loudly this time. "All right, then. I suppose we need to track down this Beeles fellow to see if he can better assist us with putting two and two together. But, despite the fact that we're very displeased with the handling of this matter, I have one other question for you. Since you left the Portkey site to go make this report about Ron-where is the report? I assume your main office would have notified me of a problem, but I haven't heard a word from them."

Claudius turned a deeper shade of red, even visible in the fire. "I'm-afraid there isn't one, sir. It was-never submitted."

Snuffles stood at attention by now, several feet from the fire, the front half of his muscular body tensing ominously. The dog's teeth were bared and his lips quivered as he growled dangerously at Claudius.

"Down, Snuffles!" Dumbledore ordered, trying to remain calm himself. He knew he had to keep Snuffles the dog, not to mention Sirius Black, the man, from exploding before they got the answers they needed. "So-now-enlighten us as to how this little _report_problem came to pass, then."

Claudius seemed quite aware that the head of the huge, black dog, with its many sharp, white teeth, were just at eye level with him since he was in the fireplace. The watchwizard realized it would take but a snap for the dog to have his head between its drooling jaws.

Yet he tried to persevere in his explanation. "Tavish and I were nearly to the door of the league office, when Beeles caught up with us. He told us that Ron had returned just moments before they touched the Portkey. He claimed they all touched and transported with the five of them together. Honestly, he did. So we assumed it was all settled, and never entered the report after all." Claudius looked like he wanted to go hide somewhere-far, far away- and soon.

"And here I thought that you were going to tell me the report was waylaid due to the dementor attack-which, by the way, we had to read about in the_ Prophet_, rather than being informed by your company," Dumbledore said tersely. "When _did_that occur among all this incompetence? How close were the dementors to our students?"

Claudius looked down and shook his head. "That was the damnedest thing, sir. Tavish and I both remember going to Level Three Alert a short time before we saw your group. That meant that it was extremely urgent that we get to the Portkey site and evacuate people as soon as possible-we ran up the hill to get there. But then, once we were at the site, we both lost a few minutes of time somehow, and neither one of us could remember why we were at Level Three Alert. Next thing we knew, your students were there with Potter, so we figured it must have had something to do with him. That's why we really pushed them to leave on time, sir."

"Even though you and your partner didn't manage to actually _see_the departure," McGonagall reminded him.

"No, ma'am." Claudius paused and shook his head again, looking bemused. "I still don't understand how those few minutes could be so unclear. What was surprising, too, was that when Beeles came, he didn't make any mention of a dementor attack, even though it had just happened-and he had to have known by then! The attack was on the other side of the stadium, so most of the commotion was over there-and somehow, once we were at our site, the whole issue escaped us. I just can't imagine how that happened, though." Claudius truly did look as if he didn't understand a large portion of what happened in those few minutes. But he also looked as if he realized that his explanation simply wasn't satisfactory.

"Excuse us a moment, Mr. Reagan." Dumbledore turned away to speak to Professor McGonagall privately. "What do you think? Is there anything else you can think of that we've missed?"

"No. The man had no real answers, except to let us know we need to find this Beeles person, but I think that's all we-" McGonagall replied.

A loud hiss broke the relative silence in the room, immediately followed by a voice shouting, "Hey-get away from here! Go away, you stupid mutt!"

Dumbledore and McGonagall turned back swiftly, just in time to see Claudius leaning his head as far away as he could from the side of the fire where Snuffles stood. It took a moment for the two professors to realize that the dog wasn't just standing, but had lifted his leg on Claudius, relieving himself and dousing some of the flames with a 'hiss' in the process.

"Snuffles!" Dumbledore shouted. "Out!" He pointed toward the outer office chamber door, and the dog obligingly pranced away.

"I apologize for that, Mr. Reagan," Dumbledore said quickly (and somewhat insincerely). "I trust that your information on this matter will not go unreported _this_time-and that everything you've told us here will be entered accordingly. I don't pretend to understand how your superiors expect to run an effective protection business in this manner, but I don't have time to deal with that now. We, in fact, have some students to find. Thank you for your time-I would expect you to consider how you would handle things differently next time, Mr. Reagan," Dumbledore said tersely.

"Yes, sir," Claudius said, his eyes downcast and his hair looking a bit-damp. Dumbledore's overwhelming sense of authority could reduce even the strongest-willed of adult wizards to shame, if necessary, making them feel as if they were Hogwarts students in detention once more. With a_ 'pop'_, Claudius was gone, but they were no closer to finding the Weasleys, Harry, or Hermione.

The eyes of Sirius Black, who was now in wizard form, appeared briefly from around the doorframe. Once he saw that all was clear, he entered the inner chamber once more.

"And was what you did to that man _entirely_necessary?" Dumbledore asked, though his tone seemed to be more amused than angry.

Sirius paused. "Let me think. Hmmm. I don't seem to remember exactly what it was that I did-but I _do_remember feeling much better for it afterwards."

Dumbledore looked at Sirius with one eyebrow raised skeptically, but he knew that pursuing the conversation with Black would be pointless. "Have you ever heard of this Beeles fellow, Sirius?" Dumbledore asked.

Sirius shook his head that he had not-the grim look on his face had returned once his human mind had had time to consider all that he'd heard in canine form.

"Minerva?" Dumbledore turned to McGonagall. "Have you any idea who this Beeles person is?"

"No, no- I don't think so," she said pensively. "Oh, wait a moment. You know, I think we did have a Beeles family here at one time. A Ravenclaw girl and her younger brother. It's been some time ago, though. We could look it up in the archives."

"All right. Perhaps you could take care of that for us, then," Dumbledore suggested, looking at Sirius, who had now begun to pace the room as the Headmaster had been doing earlier. "I really doubt I'll be able to get _him_to settle down enough to go looking around some dusty old volumes in the library. I'll see who I know at the M.M.S. these days and check into contacting Beeles directly."

"Certainly, sir. Perhaps I'd better go, as well, and send off that next owl to the Grangers." With that, McGonagall turned curtly, and left the office, leaving Sirius and Dumbledore alone.

"I'm going over there, Albus," Sirius stated matter-of-factly.

"To do what, exactly? Do you have a plan, or are you just going to storm the Irish countryside and flush them out-as a _dog_?" Dumbledore asked.

"I have a plan," Sirius insisted. "Well, I will by then. I was just trying to remember where Moody said he was going to be. I know better than anyone how relentless he can be. He'd certainly be the next best man to take along."

Dumbledore was fully aware of who Sirius would think the first best man would be. "This could last into the wrong time of the lunar cycle for Remus, couldn't it?"

"Yes-and he's the one who tried to keep me calm enough to even let Harry go. Tried to get me to see that Harry needed some freedom, or he'd just suffocate under all the Darkness. Remus was right, you know. Still is. Now he feels bad for pressing the issue with me. But still-dammit-look what's happened!"

Sirius stopped pacing and looked up at Dumbledore, his dark eyes a mixture of rage and worry. His voice shook with quiet, yet intense emotion as he spoke very deliberately. "Harry's got to be all right, Albus...He just has to."

# # #

Ron walked cautiously up to the little cottage without seeing or hearing a sign of life anywhere. _Oh, man, I hope she kept her word not to hurt herself,_he thought. But he had to admit he was a bit relieved not to have found anyone else wandering about the cottage, either.

"Hello?" he tried, calling out tentatively, not wanting to startle anyone. "Is anybody there? Valeria?"

He peered toward the windows. The sun was starting to burn away the dense fog, turning the air into a brilliant haze, since it was now approaching the middle of the day. The bright-white air glared relentlessly and made Ron's eyes water as he tried to see any movement at the dark, covered windows.

"Valeria?" he called louder. "It's me-Ron. Remember?-talked to you last night?" He started toward the old, splintering, wooden door to knock on it, but jumped back a bit when it suddenly swung open a few inches.

A pale, drawn-looking face peeked out at him, its most compelling feature a set of large, dark, yet very haunted-looking eyes. Ron remembered that same expression from one of the first connections, months ago. The emotion within those eyes had burned an image into his memory even then, as they peered above and between the shoulders of a circle of dementors.

Even though they looked nothing alike, there was a quality about Valeria that reminded him of Ginny. It was even more apparent in person than in the telempathic connections. Now it made sense why he had initially confused them in his mind, and thought it was Ginny who was endangered by the dementors. He briefly wondered how it must feel to this girl to be drowning in this horrible situation you didn't understand, obviously without anyone to help protect you.

Ron could tell this was the same girl he'd seen yesterday at the Quidditch match _(was that only yesterday?_he thought), but she looked as if she had aged years overnight. It was obvious she hadn't slept at all, and had spent the night fighting off the demons in her head. Whether those demons were of her own imagination or not this time, Ron knew that without some help, they would find a way to kill her, even if she did the killing herself.

"Valeria?" Ron questioned, trying to keep his voice even. "Hello. I finally get to meet you properly, I suppose. I'm Ron."

"Yes. I know," she replied, her voice shaky.

He tried to make it sound off-handed, but he couldn't get the one thought off his mind. He didn't sense any of the usual cold and sadness that came with the dementor's presence, but he had to know. "So, do you live here alone?"

"Yes. I have been. But I think it was them who led me here," she said, not budging from her spot behind the protection of the door.

"They? The dementors?" Ron asked, forgetting she'd never called them that.

"The-what?

"Oh-the 'beings'. The ones with the black cloaks and hoods. We call them dementors. I forgot you call them something else." Ron squinted at the dark doorway, trying to block out some of the sun in his face by holding his hand up to shade his eyes.

"The Muertos? I thought the Muertos were only in _my_mind. Until the other night-you know when- that night, I think it was them who came and brought me back inside the cottage. It was the first time I'd seen them outside of my head." Valeria's eyes darted around nervously as she told him this- as if her saying it would scare him away.

Ron shivered despite the warmth of the sun beating down on him. To think this poor girl had actually spent time in the company of dementors- apparently some people didn't have to go to Azkaban to go through hell. But he had to press on with her.

"Are they here now? Have they been back?" Ron asked.

"No. Not since they left yesterday- and even then they were only in my mind. They were really angry with me. But aside from that, I've been alone since the other night," Valeria explained.

Ron sensed that he needed to check out the cottage for himself, even though he felt fairly sure that she was telling him the truth. He wasn't about to bring Harry here and walk him into a trap-or Hermione and his brothers, for that matter.

"Then would it be all right if I came inside?" Ron asked.

Valeria looked a bit surprised at his request.

"I know this whole situation is a bit strange. But that's why I'd like to explain. You see, I think my friends and I are stranded here for a while-"

Valeria flinched at his mention of 'friends'. "Your friends are here, too?" she asked anxiously. Peering out into the brightness, she scanned the outskirts of the clearing around the cottage to see if she could spot any faces staring back at her.

"Yeah, but-they won't hurt you. They want to help you, too. Just like I do." He was trying frantically to think of something convincing to tell her, because she looked ready to slam the door in his face. Ron wasn't especially eager to tell her Harry was here with him, but he was afraid it might be the only way to keep their communication open. "You met Harry. He was willing to help you when he thought you were hurt, right?" _Although I'm very interested in hearing the reason why you were out there with Harry _pretending _to be hurt,_Ron thought.

Valeria, though frowning, paused a moment. "Yes. He was-nice, I guess." She appeared to be thinking to herself, then made a reluctant decision and spoke slowly. "Okay. You can come in." She drew back and pulled the door open far enough for Ron to enter.

Ron found he had to be careful with the height of the doorframe as he cautiously stepped inside. (It had obviously been built in a time when people were generally shorter.) To go from the brilliance outside into the inky darkness was a shock to his vision. He could see absolutely nothing, since there were no lights, and the paneless windows had been covered with cloths of some kind. He considered asking her if they could pull down one of the window cloths, but thought it might be too presumptuous for someone who had only just now talked himself in the door. As Valeria closed the door behind him, he held his hands out in front of him so he didn't run into anything.

"There's a chair right there," Valeria offered, pushing it at him, apparently used to this kind of darkness.

Ron sat down willingly in what felt like a wooden straight-backed chair, hoping it would give his eyes time to adjust. Or maybe she'd reconsider keeping her guest in the blackness soon.

"So what do you mean, you're stranded here?" Valeria asked, saying the word 'stranded' as if she hadn't heard it very often.

"Well, it's a bit of a long story. But our way to get back to school fell through. The Portkey didn't work," Ron explained. "We were hoping maybe you could help us out on that, if we can help you out with these dementors... I mean-what did you call them again?" Ron asked.

"Muertos? It's Spanish," Valeria explained.

"So you never called them dementors where you came from?" Ron asked. "From Spain?"

"I don't think anyone in Spain has ever seen or heard of them," Valeria replied, "except me." Some bad memories seemed to creep in upon her then. She sat down on another piece of furniture (that he couldn't make out) not far from him, but Ron's eyes were beginning to adjust enough to the dark that he could vaguely make out her face in the eerie filtered light coming through the window cloths.

As he began to see more, Ron could not spot anything he would regard as threatening in the cottage. It looked to be a simple one-room affair, with four windows and a door. He could barely see the outline of a table or stone room divider, of sorts, and a few areas of mass and pattern that must have been furniture. It didn't seem like there would be space for anyone, or anything to hide. The ceiling was open to the rafters only partway across, which led him to believe that perhaps there was a loft or storage area above, but anything hiding there would have easily given itself away by creaking across the floorboards.

Ron squinted through the darkness to see if he could spot a fireplace, so they could perhaps communicate with Hogwarts or the Ministry. Just before he left the rest of the group by the creek, Hermione had mentioned they should try and contact someone, because she was sure people would be starting to worry about them by now.

_Aha! I think over there..._Ron thought, looking toward the corner and what could conceivably be a kitchen-type area. _Looks like a big stone hearth-perfect for a Floo system fireplace. I'll bet it's been connected for years._

"So, do you use the fireplace to get from here to the coast, then use a Portkey from there?" Ron asked.

Valeria just stared at him, blinking.

Her lack of response threw him a bit. "Or do you just use a Portkey?- Can you get it set way out here?"

Still no reply, except the blinking.

Ron frowned, then it occurred to him. "Oh-you must have an Apparating License! That'd be wicked! Probably had to get one to keep coming so far, right? But how did you get it at your age? - They're impossible in London."

Valeria looked as if she were trying to process what he was saying, but it appeared as if nothing was going through.

_Doesn't she have any idea what I'm talking about? _Ron thought. "How about the hearth? Is it connected to the Floo Network at all?"

"What do you mean?" Valeria asked, completely confused. "I have a little wood left that I collected the other day."

An idea had begun to grow in Ron's mind that he decided he'd really rather not accept. After all, he had thought all along that they'd be able to talk to_ some_one... "Can you communicate at all through the fireplace? You know, talk to people?"

Valeria concentrated on what he'd said a moment longer, then began acting even more self-conscious. "I'm sorry. I usually understand most of what people say in English, but I don't know what you're talking about at all. What do you mean-talk to people through the fireplace?"

The little idea in Ron's mind now fell like a large bomb. "Do you- have a wand?" he tried as one last-ditch effort.

"A what?" Valeria shook her head and shrugged, still a bit embarrassed that she couldn't comprehend.

Ron took a deep breath, and blew it out slowly through his mouth. _Okay, I wasn't expecting __**this **__at all. She's someone who's been sent to get Harry, is involved with dementors, and she can contact me through the telempathic connections._

But-

_**she's a Muggle?**_

___Well, I suppose the good news is-there's probably not much she can do on her own to Harry, then, unless she's hiding one of those weapons in here that Muggles sometimes use to kill one another. But from what I understand of them, you have to fill them with little pieces of metal and point them to kill someone-she doesn't seem anxious to do anything like that-at least not right now._

The bad news is- unless she has a fellytone, we are really on our own until we can figure out what's up with the Portkey. We won't be going to Hogwarts this afternoon, I reckon.

Ron figured he might as well ask and get all the bad news over with. "Do you have a fellytone here?"

Again a blank look came from Valeria.

Ron tried to remember how he had used that contraption to call Harry at the Dursleys that time before second year. He pantomimed dialing and holding the listening part up to his ear.

"Oh-I know that one. You mean a telephone." Valeria seemed certain it was he who saying it wrong this time-she appeared to be somewhat comforted by the fact that she wasn't the only one having trouble with the language. "But no, there isn't one here. There might be one in the town, but that's about five kilometers away."

Ron's stomach announced loudly that it was not only way past time for breakfast, it was missing lunch as well. He held his arm to his stomach, but there was no doubt Valeria had heard it.

"I only have a little food. But you can have some, if you want," Valeria offered quietly.  
She seemed so fearful and withdrawn and defeated, yet was still willing to be the one to help him, instead of the other way around.

Ron considered the times she'd told him what an evil person she was. _I knew I was right! That's why I told her to resist the dementors. She doesn't seem evil at all, just caught up in something she can't handle,_ Ron thought. _I think we'd be safe enough staying here for a bit, even Harry-then maybe we could help her, too.  
_  
Ron was very tempted to take her up on her offer of food then and there, but realized there was something he had to take care of first. Besides, he wouldn't think of eating anything without making sure that his friends and brothers had something to eat as well.

"Valeria, I know we've really just met. But you know me a little, from our mind connections." Ron was trying to make sure he explained everything in non-magical terms, so she could understand it all. "My friends and I are stuck here for the moment. Like I said before, they would all try to help you, not hurt you. We stayed in a rock cave up on the hillside last night, but it's cold and drafty, and bloody uncomfortable. Could we maybe stay here with you for a bit? We could work on finding some way to help you, too, and try to find a way to free you from the Mooeer-those beings, though I don't have any idea how you got mixed up with them."

Valeria still acted nervous and a bit apprehensive. "I don't know..."

"I'm not the only one who's hungry, either. Maybe you could help us find a way to get some food," Ron added, trying not to consider the alternative if they ended up having to be here longer than expected.

Repeatedly and nervously pulling at a strand of hair, she appeared to be thinking deeply. "What if the Muertos come? You've seen them before, so you know what they are. But I don't know what happens when they take my mind over. I can't control it after a while. I don't think I've ever been dangerous to anyone before, but I might be to your friend Harry, because they want him. At the very least, people become afraid of me, and they won't talk to me after I come back."

"With any luck, we'll manage to be gone by the time they come. Plus, I think I know someone who could help you. Dumbledore, or the Ministry, could make sure the dementors never came back to your mind again-I'm sure of it," Ron explained.

Ron saw something that almost looked like gratitude in Valeria's eyes.

"But you don't even know me," Valeria said, unable to believe what she was hearing. "You'd do that for me?"

"Why not?" Ron responded. "Somehow you were put in touch with me. So I reckon it's me who's supposed to find a way to help you. You kept telling me in the connections how evil you were becoming, but I don't get that from you at all."

Valeria managed a wan little smile then. "Well, okay. If you're willing to try and see past what I can't get out of my mind, you can stay here. I just hope you know what you're getting into."

Ron hoped that was just her way of trying to be nice, rather than an omen of what was to come. "Yeah, I know. Me, too."


	14. Partners, Portkeys, and Proud Potatoes

**~ Chapter 14 ~  
Partners, Portkeys, and Proud Potatoes  
**

Valeria held her arms crossed in front of her, walking ever so slowly behind Ron.

_He can tell how terrified I am,_ _even without being inside my mind,_ she thought. _I told him I'd rather meet them all outside, but I didn't telI him why. It's easier for me there because I feel like I can run if I have to. I guess this is what insanity does: makes you more afraid of meeting real people who are unfamiliar, than of dealing with the familiar demons in your mind._

A group of people emerged from the edge of the woods near the creek. Ron had told her briefly who they were, hoping to familiarize her a little and ease her mind.

It was simple to tell which of the group were his twin brothers, even from afar. Not only were they exact duplicates of each other, but they had the same red hair as Ron, only just a shade darker. The girl with the bushy hair and the name she had trouble pronouncing was one of his best friends. And there, now standing alongside the girl, was Valeria's intended victim, Harry Potter.

Squinting into the bright afternoon haze,Valeria walked several steps behind Ron, using his body to shield herself from the looks of his friends. She worried about what the new people saw when they looked at her, just like any other seventeen-year-old would. But mostly, she worried about being rejected immediately, because they knew she was insane-memories of meeting Susana's friends, and the ensuing disaster, taunted her in the back of her mind.

_They all seem very nice on the surface, _Valeria thought after Ron introduced everyone by name,_ though I'm not sure the girl knows what to think of me._ _She seemed very watchful of what I was doing, and very protective of her best friends. Harry was a bit cautious of me as well, though I'm sure I can see why after what happened at that game. But Fred and George were certainly friendly enough, even if they are a bit overwhelming together._

A short time later, inside the cottage, Ron had asked if it was truly all right to eat some of her food, to which Valeria had agreed. After the group had finished off all but a small piece of cheese, several slices of bread, and one apple, they seemed to feel a bit better, but it had certainly not been enough food to satisfy even two healthy appetites, much less four. And now there was barely enough left for later to quell even one growling stomach.

Refreshed a bit by their small meal, Fred and George had talked with Valeria about where they might be able to find more food. She told the group about the store in town, but for some reason, these new people were even more reluctant to go there than she had been. If nothing else, they wanted to exhaust all their other options first.

Valeria had suggested the twins head off toward the road to town. She had seen several farms on her walk into the village and thought maybe the twins would be able to buy some items from the farmers, if they didn't want to risk being seen in the village. _  
_  
Valeria found her mood brightened a bit by her short talk with Fred and George. Though she didn't really offer much in the way of conversation except to answer their questions, she found she didn't really have to do anything else. The two of them could hold an ongoing conversation of their own that no one else could break into, anyway. But they seemed so alive, and saw such humor in everything, it made her feel cheered just to watch and listen to them together. In fact, it was after her conversation with the twins that she had consented to pinning up some of the cloths on the windows and letting a bit of the afternoon sunlight flow into the room.

The only thing that had worried her a bit was when she had seen Ron talking with his two best friends while she'd been talking with his brothers. She watched from the corner of her eye as Ron whispered something that seemed to concern them. Harry and Hermione were looking toward the fireplace for some reason, with their brows furrowed. Then they shot a quick glance at Valeria, obviously not intending for her to see. But she had come to be an expert at seeing what people didn't want her to, and she noticed it immediately. Valeria pushed away the thought that they were plotting something against her-she still wanted to believe and trust in Ron when he said they could find her some help.

Oh, please, God, I hope I made the right choice, she thought.

Later in the afternoon, Ron and Harry discovered the complex wonders of trying to get water from a ground well. Though it took them several hours, the two of them re-filled the extra buckets inside the cottage, since they had drained all of the containers dry almost immediately upon eating. While outside, they noticed a dark, looming fogbank just like that of the night before, was beginning to make an appearance in the distant sky over the ocean, and the haze, which had never fully given in to clear sunshine, began to thicken in anticipation of evening.

Valeria felt painfully awkward having other people at the cottage. It wasn't that she minded the company, exactly, it was just that she felt she was walking on eggshells the entire time. Constantly uncertain of when or if they were going to ask something of her, or ignore her, or reject her_ (would they throw me out of here? where else would I go?), _she spent a great deal of time huddled quietly at the edge of the old sofa, staring at her fingernails.

It seemed that her discomfort made these new people feel strange, too. Either that, or something about the cottage was very odd for them. They kept trying to find something to occupy themselves. While working, they would feel their pocket, or even remove a strange-looking stick from it, then glance at her, seem to remember something, and put the stick away. All five seemed almost irritated or confused after they went through this procedure. Though Valeria hardly considered herself qualified to evaluate peculiar behavior, it was her opinion that what she'd seen wouldn't be thought of as normal on her side of the world, anyway.

She got a glimpse of what might be part of the problem about an hour after Fred and George had left in search of something to eat.

Valeria glanced at Harry and Hermione, who had been busying themselves just outside the front door by whacking the dust out of some old blankets they'd found in the loft with an old wooden board. Ron had been unseen but not unheard, rooting around in the loft and occasionally making a startled yelp and banging repeatedly at something from time to time. ("Spiders," Harry and Hermione agreed, seeming somewhat curious as to what had managed to keep their friend up there so long with _any_eight-legged creatures.)Valeria watched carefully as Ron came down the loft ladder, the other two setting down what they were doing and walking over to form a semi-circle around her place on the sofa.

Ron sat closest to her on the dilapidated old couch. Harry pulled up a rickety stepstool to sit across from her, and Hermione pulled up a dusty armchair to sit between Harry and Ron. _Again she's acting very protective,_ Valeria thought. _What does she think I'm going to do to them, I wonder?_

Valeria's eyes darted rapidly from face to face, nervously trying to assess what was about to happen. Though she wanted to trust them, Valeria's survival response started to kick in. She made certain she was aware just how far it was to the door and how she would get there if she needed to. Clasping her hands in front of her, she hoped desperately the three friends wouldn't notice how badly she was shaking.

Ron did. "Valeria," he started, though Valeria noted a tone of discomfort in his voice. "We need to talk to you about some things. I know about all the bad things you've been through, and how long you've been putting up with them. We don't want to make it worse. It's just that...we need to know some things to keep everyone safe, and to maybe help you out in the end, too. Don't be afraid, okay? We usually try and work out problems together, because for whatever reason, the three of us," he nodded at Harry and Hermione, "get lots more done together than each of us by ourselves could do."

Valeria didn't answer immediately. First she looked into Harry's face, which looked open, honest, and willing to help, just like Ron's. She felt encouraged. Even though she had tried to trick Harry at the flying broomsticks game per Tom's instruction, Harry seemed willing to forget that, and move on. It upset her that she was programmed to set him up for certain death, and here he was, sitting here with her, unafraid, and trying to help her instead.

Next she looked at Hermione. Valeria could tell that a million thoughts were flying through the girl's mind all the time, even as they all sat there together. Valeria wouldn't even venture a guess as to what Hermione could be thinking about, but she knew some of it involved worrying about Ron and Harry. The only tiny smile she'd seen on Hermione all day was when the group had first arrived at the cottage, and was directed at Ron as she walked up from the woods by the creek. Since then, Hermione had been working diligently at trying to clean and organize everything in the cottage, as if working compulsively made her feel more comfortable. Valeria didn't really feel any malice from Hermione, just a great deal of wariness. _Maybe that's just how she is with strangers, _Valeria thought. _I don't blame her, in a way.  
_  
"Valeria?" Ron prompted, since she'd taken so long to answer.

"Yes. Okay," Valeria responded, looking into Ron's face now, and feeling calmed by the familiarity and the willingness to help that she met there. "I'll be okay. I don't know what I can help you with, but I'll try."

"You probably know what we need first. The dementors-the-" Ron looked perplexed.

"Muertos?" Valeria filled in.

"That's it. The Muertos. I'll get it next time," Ron said. "You said they haven't come back since yesterday, right?"

"No," answered Valeria. The question seemed a little strange to her. "You'd know it if they came, and if you saw what they did to me. I don't know what I look or act like during the time they're invading my mind, but it must be awful."

"Do they usually come every day? Do they do this sometimes? Stop coming for a while? Or is this a bit-strange?" Ron asked.

"Really, it's odd that they haven't been here. Lately, they've been coming two or three times a day. But I told you they were really angry with me," Valeria explained.

"For what? Why were they angry?" Harry asked.

_Figures it would be him who had to ask. _"Because I didn't do what I was supposed to do."

"What was that?" Harry asked again.

Valeria looked like a trapped animal. Her eyes darted swiftly around past all of them again, landing on Ron.

Ron looked as if he could tell she needed some support. He spoke gently, apparently to try and keep her calm. "Go ahead. Tell him. He needs to know."

Valeria reluctantly turned toward Harry again."To-to-get you to bring me back to the cottage. Alone."

"What?" Hermione said loudly, a bit upset. Ron shot her a look to tone down her reaction.

Hermione's outburst startled Valeria, but the encouraging look Ron gave the frightened girl kept her on track. Her voice shaking, she continued. "I-was supposed to get-Harry- to bring me back here-by himself. I was told he wasn't to bring his friends."

Harry took a deep breath, but knew this had to come out for all their sakes. "And then what? Once you got me to come here. Then what?"

Valeria's face looked pained. _He already knows about the Muertos. I can tell him that. But I want to tell him about Tom. It's Tom that's behind all this-it's him that wants -to kill Harry. I don't even want to think about what Tom might do to him before letting him die. But I still remember how deep that feeling of evil was-I couldn't live with myself if I turned Harry over to that-if I turned anyone over to that. I've got to tell them._

"Then I -turn you over to them- to the Muertos," Valeria said quietly. "But it's-" _worse than that. It's so much worse for you, Harry! Why can't I say the words? How can they control me now? They're not even here-and they're controlling my mind. How can this be happening?_

Suddenly, Valeria's mind felt the pressure increase inside, as if someone had turned up the valve on a steam engine. She almost felt as if her head would explode with the effort of trying to warn them about Tom, and her inability to do so. Even though Tom had acted earlier as if he would protect her from what he called "Potter's evil" , she was certain there would be no protection, but swift and certain retaliation once Tom found out that she'd chosen to trust Ron instead.

The pain attacked Valeria's brain with such a vengeance, she could barely see. But it wasn't the Muertos coming-it was a different agony. They had done something to her mind to make her even more a part of them and less an inhabitant of the real world. It felt to her as if a tight metal shackle had been placed on her brain, pinching and cutting, not with every movement, but with every idea about Tom; it seemed to tighten with any thought of telling these new people about him or the sparkling ball device she had seen with him. Though she knew that even the Muertos and Tom could not have physically placed shackles in her head, the knowledge did nothing to relieve the torturous throbbing.

Again giving the appearance of an animal so fearful to be trapped that it would chew off its own leg, Valeria, gasping for breath, gave Ron one long, panicked, soulful look. Her eyelids twitching in the attempt to hold on despite the pain, she cried out and wrapped her arms around her head, falling sideways toward Ron until her head and arms rested on his leg. She remained there, sobbing fitfully in a heap on the sofa, rocking her upper body reflexively in a vain attempt to ease the pain.

Ron, his arm held up in surprise, and his entire body stiffening at the physical contact with the cringing girl, swung his wide-eyed stare up to Harry and Hermione. The three of them sat speechless for a moment, exchanging blank looks between themselves as the sound of Valeria's wails continued beside them. They knew little more now than they did before, but it was apparent they wouldn't be able to learn more from Valeria-not soon, anyway. In minutes, she had slipped from consciousness.

"Can't you do something for her?" Harry asked Ron. "Telempathically? I mean, I know we're here with her now. But can't you-I don't know-get inside her mind and find out what's wrong?"

"Yeah, I suppose I should. It just seems weird with her right here," Ron said. Even though both Harry and Hermione had been involved in the telempathic connections before, Ron seemed a little uneasy connecting with someone else while they just sat and watched.  
_  
_"You did it with me," Hermione said randomly and very quietly in an odd voice. "When I was right next to you."

Ron looked at Hermione curiously, apparently trying to decipher what her tone of voice meant, if anything. "I know." He glanced back down at Valeria, her head still wrapped in her arms on his leg. "I just hope this doesn't mean the dementors are with her now-and I hope that I can get back out if they are. What if-?" Ron looked as if he was reconsidering what he had been planning to say. He looked meaningfully at Harry and Hermione. "If anything weird happens, either with her, or me, or here in the cottage, do everything you can to get my attention-yell, hit me, whatever-just get me out of there so I can help you."

Harry and Hermione both appeared taken aback by the depth of Ron's concern. They didn't seem to have expected that from him and his words set them even more on edge than they had been before.

"What do you think might-?" Hermione started curiously.

"I don't know," Ron interrupted nervously, obviously not willing to explain further. "I'm just saying, that's all."

Ron leaned against the back of the sofa, closed his eyes, and appeared to be trying to relax, as Hermione had shown him to do in the common room that evening that seemed so long ago. After a few moments, the changes in expression began to cross his face as it had that night of Valeria's suicide attempt.

"It's okay. This is what happened before," Hermione whispered to Harry, apparently not wanting to disrupt Ron's concentration, but responding to the worried look on her friend's face.

Harry and Hermione watched as Valeria cried out and Ron's brow furrowed. Ron suddenly picked up his hand from the sofa and laid it on Valeria's arm as it snaked around her head. He hadn't opened his eyes, or appeared to come to full consciousness at any point. His breathing had become uneven, though, and the expressions crossing his face were becoming more intense.

After a few more minutes, Valeria started to cry in her unconscious state, the tears rolling down her face and onto Ron's jeans. Sounding like a hurt animal, she began to wail and whimper a bit more profoundly. As Harry and Hermione focused on Valeria's face, a rather loud yell from Ron made them jump.

Ron's outburst seemed to awaken him from his complete concentration on Valeria, and from the connection itself. He was breathing hard, and his face was contorted with a look of panic and worry. He reached up with his hand to push his hair back from his forehead, where it had become damp and sweaty during the connection.

Ron looked foggily at Harry and Hermione, trying to focus.

"Ron, are you all right?" Hermione asked, leaning down to peer up into his face.

"Yeah," he replied slowly, still trying to even out his breathing and bring his mind back to full consciousness. Noticing his other hand was still on Valeria's arm, he pulled it back quickly. "Yeah, I think so." He suddenly opened his eyes wide, and looked around the unchanged room quickly. "Is everyone else okay?"

"Yeah. Nothing happened here except us watching what you were going through," Harry explained. "Could you find her? Were the dementors there?"

Appearing quite somber and serious, Ron seemed to be trying to pull his thoughts together.

"I found her," Ron began. "The dementors weren't with her this time. But she couldn't talk to me, she was in so much pain. The dementors are usually the ones who pull her away, but something else was keeping her from me this time. I don't know what it was, but it was like-suffocating her brain. The pain was unbearable for me- it's unthinkable what it must be like from inside her body. And before, I thought the dementors felt Dark-this time there was something more-" _something hideously evil..._

Harry and Hermione were hanging on Ron's every word, apparently hoping he could be more specific about what he'd seen. But he just sat staring forward, seeming to peer into the foggy memory of some terrible place that he had just been, and which they could not see.

"I know that staying here was all my idea to start," Ron said. "But whatever that is I saw with her-it's_..._I don't think we can face it down on our own." He paused, thinking, and looking very worried. "We've _got_ to get out of this place."

# # #

Dumbledore had been relieved to find out that Moody was still in London- far enough away to be a bother to contact, but close enough to pull him in quickly. If there was anything at all that pleased the Headmaster on that day, it was that he had managed to bring Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody in on their search effort. Dumbledore received the seasoned Auror into his office graciously, but certainly not with any welcome news.

As Dumbledore offered a seat to his old friend, Moody glanced toward the fire, and saw an enormous, black shaggy dog lying curled next to it. Snuffles was not sleeping, but was simply lying peacefully, as if listening to the humans in the room converse.

"Is that your dog, Albus?" Moody asked, his steel-gray brow furrowed. "He looks familiar, somehow."

"No-no, not really. He just comes around sometimes. He doesn't really belong to anyone. It seems more like he thinks _we_ belong to _him_, actually."

At these words, Snuffles' tail flopped several times on the floor in response, but he didn't lift his head.

Dumbledore spent the better part of an hour explaining the circumstances of the missing students to Moody, hoping that by the end, the offer would come-which it did.

Moody spoke with the Director of Auror Operations in Ukraine right from the Headmaster's office, making certain that the herbs he'd sent had been received at Ukraine headquarters. More importantly, Moody notified the Director that he would be taking a few days' leave to 'donate time for a good cause'.

The Auror had cleared his schedule to perform the great favor for his old friend without a second thought. Now the Headmaster had one other bombshell to drop upon him.

Dumbledore paused for a moment to think how he could best approach this. He needed to explain to Moody about Sirius and that the two of them would be going to Ireland together. The Auror would be working with a fugitive that most of the world still believed to be guilty. Last, but not least, the Headmaster would have to explain that Alastor Moody would be working with the very same man that he had arrested for the murder of James and Lily Potter in Godric's Hollow the day after their death.

Cautiously, trying to sense Moody's feelings as he spoke, the Headmaster mentally took the Auror back to that terrible day, reminding him of the events that led up to it. Moody had chimed in from time to time with a tragic memory or two. Sirius Black's arrest had been one of many famous events in 'Mad-Eye's' illustrious career-he'd been the Auror in charge that day-the leader of the twenty M.L.E.S. officers that it took to capture Black and take him in.

But as Dumbledore began to speak of the people lying dead in the streets, the alleged murder and disappearance of Peter Pettigrew, the rescue of the infant Harry by Hagrid Hagrid and their subsequent escape on Black's motorcycle, the last-minute switch in the Secret-Keepers- Alastor Moody sat in horrified silence. The story that Albus Dumbledore told astounded the Auror, because it contradicted everything Moody had believed in his soul for the last fourteen years.

"By Gryffindor's ghost, Albus, are you telling me we arrested the wrong man?" Moody choked out once Dumbledore had ceased talking. It was apparent that the new information had shaken not only Moody's belief in Black's guilt, but his belief in the integrity of the Aurors as well.

"It does seem so with what we know now," Dumbledore said quietly. "But none among us can be blamed for looking at the evidence and coming to the conclusion that we did at the time. We simply didn't realize that we didn't _have_all of the evidence."

"But to cause the man to live in Azkaban for twelve years, then as a fugitive since then. Has anyone contacted him anywhere?"

"Er, yes, actually," Dumbledore answered.

"We need to bring him back, and set up a new trial, at least. We can go to the Ministry-surely they have all of this information by now-" The Auror's sense of justice had been rattled, and he seemed to feel a great need to have it reinstated.

"All in good time, Alastor. I fear that not everyone is as willing as you are to listen to Sirius' side of the story, but the time will come."

"Even if he's living in exile, he's probably starving, and half dead from living on the run by now," Moody imagined.

Dumbledore paused again before continuing. He was grateful that he could trust his friend Moody with anything. "Er...not exactly. It seems that Sirius Black has bent the law in one way, but only to preserve his own life. Mr. Black is an unregistered Animagus. He's traveled among us successfully for some time now."

Moody seemed a bit perplexed. "We seem to be way off track here. You've told me about your lost students, we launched into a discussion about Black's innocence, and now we've covered that he's an Animagus. I'm sorry, but I don't see how this all fits together."

Dumbledore could see why Moody was confused. "You already know that Harry Potter is one of the students that are missing. Sirius Black is Harry's godfather, and if you agree to do this, you and Black will be traveling together to Ireland to search for the students. As an Animagus, Sirius Black-"

"Is a _dog!" _Moody interrupted as it all became clear. The Auror's attention swung to Snuffles, who was now standing. Moody's eyes narrowed and he pointed his finger at the dog repeatedly. "You-now I recognize you! You're the one from Diagon Alley with Remus Lupin!-You owe me a shoeshine, Black!"

"You should probably be thankful that all he did was drool on you, Alastor," Dumbledore said matter-of factly, thinking about Claudius Reagan's damp experience with Snuffles. "Go ahead and show yourself, Sirius."

Sirius transformed easily into his usual tall, dark, and good-looking self, though the smile that usually put the icing on the charisma cake remained absent for now. He and Moody appraised each other cautiously, neither of them certain how to act with the other as yet.

Dumbledore brought Sirius over and formally introduced the two men, even though they had met before in considerably different circumstances. He tried to make it a 'new beginning' of sorts, knowing that even if the two never did learn to like one another, that these two men could put any differences aside for the good of the students, and perform the search admirably.

Black and Moody both agreed that they were prepared to leave that day, so the three men reviewed any last-minute information about the missing students before the two searchers traversed the Apparition districts into Ireland. Luckily, Moody's top-level security clearance allowed him to Apparate between sectors without prior authorization.

The only tricky part was going to be concealing Sirius' identity. His infamy made it impossible for him to travel in wizard form without being recognized, so in public, Moody would have to appear to be traveling with his faithful companion, Snuffles. But since Apparition was a very complex magical spell, one that Sirius the dog would be unable to perform, he would have to transform into his wizard self prior to Disapparating, and then back to dog form immediately upon reaching their destination, if there was any chance of them running into Muggles or wizard folk.

"We've still had no word at all from any of the students, nor any information of their whereabouts," Dumbledore stated seriously. "It's now been almost twenty-four hours since anyone has seen them. And speaking of the last person to see them, he is nowhere to be found."

"Do you mean Beeles?" Sirius questioned.

"Yes. Do you know anything about him, Alastor? Heard any rumblings from the Aurors  
or -?" Dumbledore questioned.

"No, not really," answered Mad-Eye. "I've heard of him in connection with the M.M.S. He's been in the _Prophet _discussing some of those newfangled weather-adjustment spells. But that's about it."

"The M.M.S. finally got back to me, only to report that Beeles is 'out of town on holiday, and they are unable to reach him at this time'. He's set to be gone for three or four days, so I'm assuming that if he _does_know something about what's happened to the students, it won't help us with our immediate search efforts." Dumbledore looked as if he didn't want to consider what would happen if they hadn't found the students in the three or four days' time.

"And did Minerva find out anything about Beeles when he was here? Or was he here?" Sirius asked.

"Oh, yes. I forgot to mention-" the Headmaster said. "Minerva did find out that Beeles attended Hogwarts. His sister was four years his senior and a very bright student in Ravenclaw. But there's not as much information about Elver Beeles. He was more of an average student, but was strongest in Charms and Potions. There was really nothing too remarkable about his academic career."

"So, if he wasn't as promising a student as his sister, how did he get sorted into Ravenclaw?" Sirius asked.

Dumbledore looked a bit reluctant to disclose the next bit of information, even if it could help in their search efforts. "Now, Sirius, don't go making more of this than it is. Remember that you tend to perceive things in terms of black and white, with no shades of gray-just ask Remus."

"I know-he tells me that all the time. As if it helps," Sirius snorted. "So what do I need to see 'shades of gray' in this time?"

"Elver Beeles was a Slytherin," Dumbledore said quietly.

Though Sirius looked as if he definitely had a remark to make about that disclosure, he kept it to himself-which was the best that anyone who knew Sirius Black could expect from him under the circumstances.

Sirius and Moody had then put together an initial search plan with Dumbledore. They intended to Apparate to Ireland, as near as they could to the site of the Quidditch match. From there, they would look for any sign of the missing teenagers, then work their way out, using the Quidditch pitch as their center point. There wouldn't be a great deal of time left before nightfall, but they hoped that perhaps there was just some communication problem that was keeping the students waiting nearby the Portkey site for some sign. Hopefully, they'd somehow managed to stay out of trouble so far.

Dumbledore wished Sirius and Moody good luck and told them to stay in touch.

Sirius sighed, wishing he could leave to search for his godson as a wizard. Knowing that his wish could only be granted some day in the future if it happened at all, Sirius transformed into Snuffles. He barked once at Dumbledore as if to say goodbye, then fell in alongside Moody.

The old Auror said, "Heel!" to Snuffles, who then looked up at him and growled. But Moody just chuckled as they finally took their leave of Dumbledore.

The Headmaster thought to himself about what strange times these were-to watch a convicted murderer turn into a dog, then walk out the door with the retired Auror that arrested him, in order to search for the boy who was the hope of the wizarding world, and his friends.

To the outside world, it was just an old man taking his dog for a walk.

# # #

Apparating to the Quidditch site was far from what they'd considered as the most difficult part of finding the lost students. But it turned out to be their first hurdle. The fact was-they couldn't get there.

"What in bloody blazes was that?" Sirius demanded, not really expecting an answer from Mad-Eye, who looked just as perplexed as he did. Standing in a wide, rolling field of lush knee-high plants neatly planted in rows, he visually scanned the sky, the hillsides, and the entire landscape for a clue as to what had just happened; but there were none. Luckily, there were no people to be seen anywhere within miles, either.

"I sure as hell don't know," Moody returned, appearing to be thinking deeply, as he kept shaking his gnarled head and mumbling under his breath. "Never felt anything quite like that before, even in all _my_years of strange doings."

In the midst of their Apparition, Sirius and Moody had just stopped. The Apparition ceased as the two came up against something entirely invisible, yet seemingly solid. There was no splinching (thank the gods), and no other side effects the two of them had discovered as of yet. But the magic of Apparition had just failed and lowered them to the ground, long before they had even come close to the Quidditch site.

Sirius and Moody were stumped. Only a half hour prior to sunset, here they were, standing in some farmer's field, only partially aware of where they really were themselves. Tentatively testing by firing spark flares with their wands toward where they thought the obstruction was only resulted in the sparks being bounced back in their direction.

Yet they found they could walk past the point where they thought the barrier stood. Though it was true they might be able to walk to their destination, they could tell from the landscape around them that they were far from the area of the Quidditch site, and it would take too long to walk there in unknown territory that night.

After ten or fifteen minutes of discussing their very few options at this point, they decided that nothing would get accomplished before sundown, and that their best bet was to head back to Remus Lupin's home, get some sleep, and come back early in the morning.

In their discussions, they decided that certainly this barrier could be no more than something similar to Dumbledore's Security Spell that surrounded Hogwarts. But they would need to find the counterspell, or a way to fly above the wall, and that would require some time and their broomsticks. Perhaps with more adequate transportation, they could cover the area (assuming the local residents weren't about) and test the parameters of the barrier before them.

"I don't know what that is," said Sirius, tilting his head in different positions to see if he could make out any kind of reflection where they thought the barrier stood, "and I can't imagine why it's there. But I'm sure that's why we haven't heard from them. Those kids are on the other side of that thing, and we're going to have to find a way to get them out. Let's just hope it's a big mistake, somehow, and that someone isn't keeping them there on purpose."

# # #

Ron was lying stretched out on the ratty old sofa, thinking he could feel every spring inside of it pushing up one by one into his back. It was only slightly more comfortable than the large chunk of granite he'd slept against last night, and at least Hermione had been next to him then.

It had been a strange evening to end a strange day.

Valeria had spent most of the afternoon lying on this very sofa, moaning in pain.

Ron had walked around the cottage a bit once the connection with Valeria was over. He had felt a little better once he was away from whatever he encountered in her mind, and their situation did not seem to be so perilous and bleak-not immediately, anyway.

_Forget enough of the evil that you felt so that you can keep going and thinking, Weasley. But don't forget so much that you take this situation too lightly. Maybe it'd be better to keep this to yourself now...until you can figure out some way to get home._

Harry, Hermione, and Ron had debated for a while about whether to try and help Valeria with her pain or not. Since they really weren't clear as to what the problem was, they weren't sure if it would put her or them in jeopardy if they tried to do something to ease her misery. On the other hand, it seemed cruel to just let her lie there.

In the end, they had persuaded Hermione to try a little Pain-Relieving Charm she knew, even though she was a bit uncertain about performing it. Not only did Hermione seem quite uneasy about Valeria in general, for some reason, but she wasn't sure about doing charms on a Muggle, even if that Muggle did seem to have had some experience with the magical world in her past.

But finally Hermione had let herself be convinced about helping Valeria, and she performed the charm admirably.

The throbbing in Valeria's head must have subsided a little because her whimpering died down; she roused herself somewhat and moved to her small bed in the corner, where she had been sleeping rather soundly ever since. To keep from waking her, the boys had rigged a frame around her bed (made from some rusty pipe found outside) and hung some of the old blankets there, hopefully absorbing some of the sound as the rest of them moved around in the tiny cottage.

A rumble in Ron's stomach reminded him of how much he hadn't eaten that day, although his brothers had done everything they could to find food for everyone. But just how many dry, burnt, fire-roasted potatoes could one person eat? Of course, being that the quest for food was handled by Fred and George, the whole episode had been rather amusing, a welcome relief from what Ron had faced earlier.

When they had first returned from their search, George and Fred together had lifted the ragged, old potato sack up to the stone tabletop and rolled its contents out for everyone to see. Dirty, fist-sized potatoes-lots of them- rolled across the rustic room divider that Valeria had been using as a table, a few bouncing off onto the floor before anyone could catch them.

"See? No potato famine this year!" Fred said enthusiastically.

"Well, there might be now, after seeing how many of these you took," Hermione said. "I thought you weren't going to take enough of anything that people would notice."

"That farmer's got acres of potatoes-we couldn't even see a house from where we dug these up," George assured.

"Besides, he _won't_ever notice. We fixed up all of his potato plants for him in the field where we got these," Fred continued. "Wasn't easy, either, was it, George?"

"Nope." George shook his head.

Ron glanced over his shoulder to see if Valeria was moving, then spoke in a low voice. "Okay, you guys, I'm afraid to ask, but-what did you do? No magic, I hope."

"It was just a little Engorgement Charm-hardly noticeable," George explained.

"Like we used on the Ton-Tongue Toffees. Same effect-all those puny-looking little potatoes we left growing in the patch will become big, robust, _proud_potatoes! That farmer'll be the talk of the neighborhood," Fred said encouragingly.

"Proud potatoes, eh...? But..." Ron prompted doubtfully. "There's always a 'but' with you two."

Fred and George looked at each other and snickered. "Well, since you're in such a serious mood, we're not even going to touch that one right now, Ronnie." The twins snickered at one another again. "Not that we'd want to touch it anyway."

Ron grimaced and sighed. "The potatoes?"

George finally decided to respond. "It'll probably never happen, but.."

"See? See? There it is!" said Ron victoriously.

George ignored the interruption. "It's just that with the Ton-Tongue Toffee Spell, there's a chance the potatoes could be...sort of long, and pointy at the ends...and pink."

"Pink?" Harry questioned, trying very hard not to imagine what they would look like.

"Well, yeah," Fred assured this time. "And they _probably_won't waggle back at you when you bite them-don't think so, anyway."

"Urgh!" Harry, Hermione, and Ron all groaned at the thought of a pink potato squirming around in their mouth as they bit into it, even as hungry as they were.

"I hope we're not stuck here for very long, because we don't want the people in town finding out that you two are...violating their potatoes. Not to mention that the Ministry will be breathing down our necks," Ron observed.

"Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing," Hermione had put in.

But no one from the Ministry had shown up. Actually, no one from anywhere had shown up.

At least once Valeria had gone to sleep, the others could rely on their magic a bit more. Usually, in unknown circumstances, when they didn't know if they were in Muggle or magical territory, they would have avoided magic completely to avoid trouble from the Ministry, as Ron had said. But none of them had had much experience on how to deal with just one Muggle who was seemingly trapped between both worlds, and unaware as to why.

Ron rolled onto his side, hoping he wouldn't be able to feel the springs as painfully in that position. He looked into the now-roaring fire that Hermione had started with one of her Bluebell Flames. They had used the same fire to cook Fred and George's potatoes, which tasted at once so delicious, (since they were starving) and yet, so dry and plain (except for the distinct flavor of charred cedar).

The evening had also brought a long discussion about the Portkey and their chances for using it again. Apparently, Fred and George had been considering their situation as they scoured the countryside in search of available and easily portable food. They recalled a time several years prior that they had been trying to adapt a Portkey for joke use_ (Imagine that! _thought Ron dryly.) At the time, they were trying to learn to change the Portkey setting so that touching it would take you to the wrong place, or pull you away at the wrong time.

Since it was technically the Ministry of Magic that handled the setting and regulation of Portkeys, Fred and George found their little foray into the world of Portkeys to be seriously discouraged by the Ministry. They were told in no uncertain terms that the Ministry would be the ones to give clearance for learning how to set a Portkey, and that said clearance would _not _be given to sixteen-year-olds.

So Fred and George, being the good little obedient magical citizens they were, agreed on the surface to give up trying to learn to set them (of course, seeing the twins with their fingers crossed behind their backs as they talked with the Portkey Department supervisor, would give no one cause to believe they were bending their promise just a bit). Yet they had managed to discover a very important little piece of information that could be all they needed just now to get out of Ireland and back to Hogwarts.

"And here, the Ministry did everything in their power to keep us from finding out," Fred said smugly. "But, of course, we got it anyway!"

The tidbit of information the twins were so proud of involved something in the mechanics of the spell that set the time for the Portkey to activate its own power. A flaw in the development of the original spell surfaced that could never be corrected, and the Ministry wanted no one without clearance to be aware of the flaw's existence.

But those in charge obviously did not count on the persistence of the twins. The information was gleaned and memorized from the official MoM Portkey manual by George while Fred was adequately distracting the Portkey supervisor.

'Every Portkey must be set at a certain time, but there is a default time intrinsic in the setting. A Portkey will re-set, and can be used accordingly in the total number of hours for the hour set, squared.'

In other words, the twins had explained, the Portkey from the Quidditch match had been set for around seven o'clock in the evening. That meant it would re-set, and again be ready for use at the hour (seven) squared (times seven), so that the same Portkey could be effectively used every forty-nine hours to get to the same destination originally set for. That meant, then, that forty-nine hours after they should have left for Hogwarts, they should be able to leave for Hogwarts yet again. Their calculations gave them hope that, barring the same problem they had literally run into before with whatever they'd met with in transport, they might be able to get to Hogwarts at a bit after eight o'clock the following evening.

Ron listened carefully for any sound coming from the loft above him. He could hear even breathing from Harry on the sofa at an angle next to where he was. Soft snoring came from Fred or George, or both, (it was even hard to tell them apart when they were sleeping) as they curled up on the old bunk beds by the wall. And Valeria continued to sleep soundlessly on her bed in the corner, behind the old blanket in her 'room'.

_Finally, everyone's asleep,_ Ron thought. _I thought they'd never stop driving me mad!_There had been something of a fuss when everyone had been scrambling for places to bed down for the night.

Ron was adamant that Hermione should have some privacy, and be able to sleep in the loft. After all, that was the main reason he had spent most of the afternoon cleaning it, and disposing of all the spiders and other creatures he could find there (just thinking again about the spiders he'd found up there made him shudder-but that was okay-he'd done it for Hermione).

The twins, who had wanted the loft to themselves, protested.

"But there's only one of her, and there's enough space for more up there," Fred noted.

"But there's not enough space for all four of us blokes, so she'd have to sleep down here with whoever wouldn't fit up there," Ron said.

"That's okay," George said. "We trust you and Harry not to attack the poor girl in the middle of the night."

"That's not the point," Ron said, a little more touchy than usual. Dry, burnt, cedar-flavored potatoes for dinner did not a happy man make. "And we _wouldn't_attack her anyway."

"Hmmm, I think I see," Fred said in mock realization. "You know, George, maybe he doesn't trust _himself_not to attack her..."

"Yeah, right. I just told you-" Ron started.

"Oh... yeah," George interrupted, thinking. "Oh -and remember that bit in the Charmless Carrel? Harry was in there with them, too, and we never found out _exactly_what happened between the three of them."

"What?" Harry asked, hearing his name as he walked up on them. Harry and Hermione had been over near the hearth, throwing the remaining potato skins in to burn in the fire. "What do you mean, you never found out what happened when we were in the Charmless Carrel?"

Harry looked at Ron, who hadn't explained _all_that had gone on between him and Hermione that evening while Harry was in the Carrel with them. Ron shrugged, then turned an aggravated look back on the twins.

"That night the three of you were in the Charmless Carrel -just what _did_happen, Harry?" Fred asked with feigned seriousness. "Come on, you can tell us. We're like brothers, aren't we?"

Looking at Fred suspiciously, Harry spoke cautiously. "I don't know what you're talking about. Nothing happened."

"See?" Ron said. "I told you guys that the last time you were harassing me about this! Nothing happened in the Charmless Carrel!"

Hermione had just walked up from the other side of the room in time to hear Ron's comment, but he hadn't noticed her since his back was turned her direction.

Hermione gasped when she overheard the end of the conversation. "Ron! You told them? About what happened?"

Fred and George look surprised at Hermione's reaction, shocked that the issue they had been trying to blow out of proportion to harass Ron might actually have some weight to it after all. Harry just stood there, looking confused. A slow smile of realization began to spread across the twins' faces.

Ron was taken off-guard to hear Hermione's voice behind him. "No! I told them nothing happened!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she looked first at the twins, then back at their younger brother. "Oh-don't start _that_ again with _me_, Ron," she said tersely, without even a hint of a smile.

Ron rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation. _Okay, this is getting deeper by the moment._ _Better change the subject and save yourself now!_"Look. Hermione gets the loft. That's all there is to it. Valeria has her little place over there, everyone else spread out and find somewhere to sleep. The sofa's mine-it's the only place long enough."

"But I still don't think-" George started to protest again.

"Shut it!" Ron almost shouted, then glanced quickly in Valeria's direction to see if he'd awakened her. Then he thought of something to ask his brothers. "Look at it this way-what do you think Mum would do if she finds out Hermione didn't have her own place to sleep? And you _know_ how she is-she _will_find out."

Fred and George looked at each other, scowling at first, then giving a look of resigned agreement.

They turned to each other. "Top bunk!" they cried in unison, scrambling for the bunk beds. Harry headed for the smaller sofa.

Ron turned back to Hermione, hoping he'd managed to sort things out before he got into too much trouble with her. "I pushed a big pile of straw towards the back," Ron told her. "Some of the blankets you and Harry cleaned are in the corner. I think it'll make a pretty soft bed if you work on it. And I tried to kill all the..." He tried not to let her see him shiver, but he was tired and he couldn't withhold the response.

"Spiders? Thank you," Hermione said stiffly. "Well. Good night, then." Hermione walked to get her rucksack by the wall, then started to walk toward the loft ladder.

"Good night. You know where to find us," Ron said teasingly to a straight-faced Hermione. _Why is she being like that? I hope it wasn't from the idiot twins bringing up that night in the Carrel! Well, maybe if I tell her..._"Oh-yeah-"

Hermione stopped and turned at Ron's words, then watched him walk closer.

"It smelled pretty- bad up there, and I know you like windows. So- I -made you one," Ron said quietly.

Hermione slowly smiled a little, softening and looking amazed. "You did?"

"Yeah. Magically. Just don't say anything-because I yelled at them about the magic already." He nodded toward the twins. "If there isn't any fog, I think you could see the moon if you lay with your head that way." Ron pointed in the direction of the south wall.

Hermione still seemed a little reserved for some reason, but looked very pleased that Ron would do something so nice for her. She looked toward the other three boys, who, even though they were busy trying to get settled for the night, were just too close for her to be able to even sneak a hug from Ron.

Hermione looked into Ron's eyes, seeming to try and say 'thank you for such a special idea' wordlessly. _Okay, things are looking better now... _Ron thought. 

She lifted her hand to press two fingers to her lips, then reached over to press the same two fingers to his.

The chills down his spine and the butterflies in his stomach raced to see which could feel the most unbearably wonderful inside of him. Though Ron ached to kiss her, he fully understood why they couldn't just then (_though I don't have to be happy about it! _he thought). He realized he'd just have to accept the warm pressure of her fingers on his lips in lieu of a kiss until some other, more convenient, and more private, time.

_Someday... _he thought. _Someday...when things are normal again, and we're old enough to be together all the time...I won't forget the times like this and all the making up for it that we have to do, Hermione..._

Unfortunately, the memory of Hermione's fingers lighting softly on his lips, and the intended meaning of it, didn't completely distract him from the fact that the springs in the sofa were killing him just now. Jumping up to a standing position, and glancing toward Valeria's corner, Ron reached into his cloak pocket for his wand. 

"Stuficus maximus!"

he whispered irritably, and waved his wand across the entire length of the sofa. Peering through the semi-darkness at the sofa cushions, he couldn't tell until he sat down again if the charm had worked. But even just sitting told him he actually might be able to sleep here now. He stretched out full length, sinking into the much-improved softness of the sofa.

Only one other thing was keeping him from sleeping. How could he sleep when something as evil as that thing which had hold of Valeria, might walk through the door at any second? If he hadn't insisted on staying in Ireland to find out why Valeria wanted Harry, and to help Valeria, none of this would have happened. At least the others would all be safe back at Hogwarts. What had made him think he could take care of this all by himself?

Now he'd endangered Harry, and his brothers. He'd probably even made things worse for Valeria. And that was the other reason he'd wanted Hermione to sleep in the loft, even though he refused to tell her (_I know how angry she'd be! _Ron thought). All he knew was, he wanted her out of harm's way if anything came through that door... 

You've got to get some sleep here, Weasley

-_or you'll be completely useless tomorrow. You can't afford to be taken off guard, and you've already missed most of your sleep from last night. Just don't snooze too deeply -be aware of what's going on around you-you need to be aware of even the slightest noise..._

And with that thought foremost in his mind, Ron sank deeper into the sofa and fell, exhausted, into a deep, dreamless sleep, where even a good game of Exploding Snap! played right next to his ear wouldn't have awakened him.


	15. Bliss and Blackmail

**~ Chapter 15 ~**

**Bliss and Blackmail**

Ron charged out the door of the stone cottage, visually searching the countryside and wheeling around frantically. He scrunched his face against the blinding glare of the morning sun, and turned toward the ocean. The jagged black cliffs stood like sentinels, jutting out of the sea mist for miles down the coastline until they were enveloped in a bank of thick fog some miles away.

He didn't want to call out to her and awaken the others, because there _could_be a perfectly logical explanation for Hermione's disappearance. But he wanted to know what that was-and fast-before he really began to panic.

_Bloody hell, Weasley! How could you have been so thick? You knew you weren't really supposed to __**sleep**__. 'Sleep lightly, be aware, hear every noise'-yeah, fine job of that you did! Unless Hermione Disapparated, she must have walked right by you, unless someone, or something else...No! No! We're not going there! She's fine, she's okay-we just have to find her!_

Walking to the edge of the cliffs, Ron unintentionally kicked a spray of small rocks off of the edge. All he could see looking down through the wave mist was the foamy sea-green water swirling far below. He could hear the pebbles trickling down along the sides of the cliffs, but he couldn't even consider the idea of anything else falling from those cliffs right now. Turning back to scan the natural clearing around the cottage, he saw nothing except the landscape, not even a sign that she had walked through the tall grass at the edge of the long valley heading out to the distant road.

Facing north, his eyes fell on the small, winding trail they had traveled down from the hillside when they arrived yesterday. Ron remembered crossing the tiny, crumbling stone bridge that stood over the little brook. Though it was not that wide, the creek obviously ran all year, because the water was deep and had cut steep banks in most places. He thought of the clearing where they had approached the water.

Ron didn't know why she'd be there, but he had few places left to search. He jogged down the open trail, then into the narrow, wooded area that had grown up around the banks of the creek. Noticing the many insects flying among the the trees enjoying the early spring sunshine, he followed the water's edge until he finally saw something moving under a large tree in the little meadow up ahead.

"Hermione!" Ron scolded, running up to her, brow furrowed and looking at her as if she were barking mad. "_What _are you _doing?"_

She was fiddling with a long, flexible wooden pole with a wheel thing attached to it that Ron didn't recognize. "And good morning to you, too," she said dryly, looking up from what she was doing and frowning. "I told you yesterday that my grandfather used to take me fishing with him. Maybe I can catch some fish for breakfast. Why?"

"Because you left without telling anyone!"

"Well, everyone was asleep and I didn't want to wake all of you, so I just left quietly, that's all," she explained.

Ron was frustrated with her composure when he himself had been so upset. "Oh, what a bloody fine idea! I mean, there could be anything out here, watching you, ready to pounce and drag you away, and you- just strolling around by yourself..."

"I didn't see any problem with it. I didn't plan on being gone very long." Hermione's calm was starting to disappear. "I _can_take care of myself, if that's what you're getting at."

Suddenly, she set her mouth in a way Ron had seen many times before (_many __**dangerous**__ times, between the two of us, _Ron thought).

"No, I don't think so!" Ron said bluntly, not realizing until after he'd said it that it wasn't_ exactly_ what he'd meant to say. "I mean-I know you can _usually_take care of yourself. But the dementors-we still don't know if they're only in Valeria's mind, or if they're really-you know-around," Ron explained, frustrated, waving his hands about.

Now that he had found that Hermione was safe, he was wasn't quite so panicked. Ron began to wonder if perhaps he'd over-reacted. Yet now he was forced to deal with her, since he'd managed to upset her quite thoroughly.

"I'm just up the path from the cottage. If I yelled, I'm sure you'd hear me. My wand's here for emergencies. I'm being careful, and I'm only trying to find something to eat for everyone..." Hermione ranted on irritably, attempting to prove her point.

Ron looked into her face, realizing just how glad he was to see her, when he'd been almost frantic not five minutes ago. He had stopped listening to the specifics of her raging, and started thinking about some of those little details again. He drank in the stormy eyes, her honey-colored curls fluffing about from the dewy morning air, her mouth all pouty as she spat out a hundred reasons why she 'would have been, and yes, was!- perfectly fine, on her own, thank you very much!'

Unsure as to why he did it until it was happening, Ron grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to him, kissing her determinedly. As angry as she was, he wasn't certain what her reaction would be. It was just that he couldn't go one moment longer without showing her how glad he was to see that she was all right.

"Mmmph-Ron!" Hermione said through the kiss, pushing him away and still irritable, but now also registering surprise. Ron could tell from the look on her face that she'd never been kissed in the middle of an angry rant before. But then, he'd never done the kissing under the same circumstances, either, so that made them even. 

The kiss did seem to change the direction of Hermione's thoughts a bit, as well, and it was a moment before she spluttered out, "How can you even think- that just because- you -"

Ron could even smile a little about it now-well, inside, anyway. He was feeling ever so much better, and she was _definitely_thrown off her game. With that thought in mind and heart, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her more intensely this time, holding her to him, and causing her to drop the fishing pole on his foot.

Hermione struggled against his embrace a bit at first, still trying to make her point. She even made a smothered little noise in protest, but it somehow turned into a contented sigh instead.

Ron noticed she had relaxed into his arms, and could now feel hers, warm around his sides. He began to enjoy the amazing feeling of her kissing him back. _Ha, Hermione! I just knew your senses would betray you and side with your heart..._

As do yours, Weasley,

his conscience reminded him, _every single time you're with her, so don't be so proud of yourself._

Just as Hermione settled in to become a bit more involved in their embrace, Ron mysteriously pulled away from her. She looked a bit as if she'd been left in the middle of something, blinking at him curiously.

"Ron?" she questioned.

"I can tell you're still upset with me, so I guess I'd better go," Ron sighed. He had no real intention of leaving, but thought this would finish his end of the issue well. He turned and began to walk away from her as she stood staring at his back.

"Well, you don't have to _leave_, but sometimes you make me so angry..." Hermione said quietly.

Ron swung around and walked backwards a few steps. "I won't bother your fishing any more then." He tried not to sound as if he was teasing, and wondered if she could tell that he was. Intending to look as if he was leaving, he slowly walked up the path.

If he had dared peek back to watch her, he would have noticed that the expression on her face had suddenly changed dramatically. "But Ron-" she called from behind him in a strange, contrived voice. "You've made me drop my fishing pole."

_Bugger! She knows me too well-she knew I wasn't leaving. But what is all __**this**__ about? _Ron turned to see Hermione standing with her hands on her hips, smiling strangely, the fishing pole at her feet. She was obviously waiting for him to come pick it up for her. Yet there was something more to this than usual, because Hermione _never_played the helpless female. She eyed him expectantly.

_Why does this feel like a chess match?_ Ron thought. _You started it as a stupid little game, Weasley, and she may end up finishing __**you**__ with it._

Ron knew he had a decision to make-he would either have to act the gentleman and get her the pole, or maintain his prideful little act and accept the consequences, whatever those might be. Hearing some little voice from deep inside (that sounded remarkably like his mum's), Ron resignedly decided he'd have to play the gentleman, but if she was going to ruin his game, he wasn't going to make it easy.

He silently walked over to retrieve the fishing pole, bending to pick it up. But as he returned to a standing position, he moved slowly past her body, leaning as close as he possibly could without actually touching her. _  
_  
As near as he already was, she countered by taking a tiny step forward until she was almost standing on his shoes. She stared up into his eyes. The heat between them was intense, and from the expression on her face, he could tell she was feeling it, too.

_Uh-oh. Not those eyes again. Unfair move, Hermione. _Ron stood his ground as best he could, but her gaze always melted him to mush, and she knew it.

_Thought it was __**you **__in control of this situation, Weasley, and you're falling apart here. Your heart's pounding, you're aching strangely all over, and you're breathing like you'd just run five miles. But then, so is she, and she hasn't even moved. _Ron was acutely aware that they were alone. _All this?_ -_and I'm not even touching her?  
_  
Hermione stared into his eyes deliberately for several minutes, seeming to enjoy making him as uncomfortable as she could. "I know your mum and I'm sure she would have told you."

_My mum? What is she talking about now? This is __**not **__a time that I want to be thinking about my mum. _"Er-what?"

"Didn't your mum ever tell you that it's not polite to tease?" Hermione asked innocently. She reached up with both hands and grabbed a handful of his shirt by the collar, pulling his face down to her level. She met his lips with hers, and, holding him there, she moved her lips over his in a soft, slow, lingering kiss.

_Say checkmate, Hermione. You win. _

Ron felt as if lightning had struck and shot straight through him. The fishing pole hit the ground for the second time in ten minutes, but there was not a thought about it in Ron's mind. Every sensor in his body was focused on Hermione.

Recovering from the initial shock of her kiss to find her hands with his, Ron pulled them from his collar. But there was no chance he was backing away from that kiss. He pushed toward her, and the two of them fell back together, still standing, yet leaning against the trunk of the huge tree behind Hermione. Pushing the palms of his hands against hers, Ron interlaced their fingers, his heart pounding frantically and his breathing fast and hard.

Hermione pulled back for a moment to look into his face. But she was smiling-that special smile that he was beginning to think of as all his- and she wasn't the least bit shy about her own attempts to catch her breath. Her eyes were sparkling, and something about the way she looked at him...That he could make _her_feel that way, too, only urged him on.

With no doubt about what his intentions were, Ron leaned in more determinedly to kiss her again. All the soft, gentle lovingness that had passed between them when they'd kissed before was now replaced with a feeling more savage and strong, but filled with the reality of heat and want and brilliant, sparking sensation.

Ron's head was swimming. He'd never felt anything so electrifying, and until now, he would have been unable to imagine its existence. His body seemed unable to absorb all the sensations at once, but he wanted to consume them all. He was amazingly aware of the hot, tingling feeling everywhere they touched as he leaned against her. He didn't want to stop-ever.

Momentarily wondering if he had permission, Ron parted her lips with his, daring to explore everything about the mouth he'd always been so affected by in one way or another. His panic in finding her, their earlier kisses, the teasing, the tension from their pseudo-kiss last night, the heat from her anger at him, had all rolled itself into some all-consuming fireball within his belly. That Hermione allowed him and welcomed him to kiss her like this caused it to burn in him even more intensely, and the only way he could satisfy the want, was with more.

Ron had always been amazed at all of the feelings that Hermione so easily stirred in him, ever since he'd met her. But this-this was something new yet again-and even more intimidating than when he first realized that he liked her. After some time, Ron pulled away, realizing that the sheer power of the feeling began to worry him a little. He was already certain he didn't dare test its limits.

_So what happened to playing the gentleman, Weasley? There's certainly nothing very gentlemanly about how you feel right now. _Ron noticed that he wasn't exactly thinking-it was like his body had thrown his mind from the train, determined to take over. What was worse, the only part left of his mind began to search out more details about Hermione as he looked down into her face as it tilted up toward his; her eyes were closed, her lips still slightly parted as if she were waiting for him to continue. But his eyes and the feeling forced his mind beyond her face-it thrust things at him that he'd never allowed himself to think about before. He was teetering on the brink of not trusting himself, or what he was going to do next. There were curves pushing back against his body, and places that her body pulled at her clothes from underneath, and his mind drifted to what it would feel like to-_No! That's it! That's __**enough**__!  
_  
Ron forced himself to lean back and stand on his own again, without the tree and Hermione helping to support his weight. Very reluctantly, and using every ounce of self-control he possessed, he slowly backed several steps away from her, still panting slightly, until they were no longer touching. He tried to glance her way, hoping to glimpse her reaction to what had happened before she noticed his eyes on her. But as she looked up, their eyes met almost immediately, and now that the moment was over, they both turned instantly away.

_You've got to say something, Weasley-anything! Let her know that she's amazing, and wonderful, and the best thing that ever happened to you. Tell her you loved feeling that close to her, and how much you wanted her, and that she's the only one you've ever felt this way about, and how you already know , even at sixteen, that there's no one else you could need more, and that she needs to know how much you care for her and that maybe you even-_

Ron worked hard to find his voice. "I-" _That was __**it?**_ _Deep breath-try again. _"Hermione, I...er-"

He dejectedly let out a huge sigh. That was all that was going to come out. Until he could convince her she was safe in the telempathic connection, and that he could get that close without hurting her, he was condemned to live in the blasted, tongue-tied real world of words. Especially in dealing with Hermione, those were the same words that had always conspired against him.

Hermione looked a bit dazed as she still leaned against the tree, watching the grass at her feet. She didn't seem to notice he couldn't get any words out. She looked as if what they'd just experienced had told her all she needed to know.

Trying to recover from choking on those few syllables, he stepped back, accidentally kicking the twice-discarded fishing pole. He reached down to get it, standing quickly this time, and he held it out to her at arms' length.

"Er...so how do you do this fishing thing, anyway?" Ron asked, making an excruciating attempt to find something else to think about. He was purposely leaving a large space between them, at least until all that heat had cooled off a little. He momentarily considered plunging into the freezing waters of the creek before he dared look at her again-just to be safe.

Hermione looked a bit relieved to have something to distract her, as well, but he could tell that her mind had to return from somewhere far away. Yet she seemed to recover more quickly, or more determinedly, than he had from their encounter. "Oh-well, I've already dug up some worms down by the water's edge-"

"Worms?" Ron repeated. They didn't bother him immensely, like spiders did, but they weren't very-appealing. He'd had enough of the flobberworms in Hagrid's class to last him forever-and worms were too close to slugs for his taste. _  
_  
"Then you need to make a hook for your string-I transfigured it from a piece of an old bedspring I found behind the cottage..."

Hermione had an explanation to give, and a captive audience. Feeling some relief at avoiding whatever that knot in his stomach had been telling him to do, Ron found a seat on a large rock next to the creek and settled in, able to see that his companion was in her element.

Ron watched Hermione talking animatedly about her makeshift fishing equipment, noting how the sunlight glanced from her hair into a thousand tiny lights, just like in the hospital wing after the wallabindle incident. Her cheeks were flushed from the early morning chill (and very probably from their near-miss with that feeling). Her intelligence and excitement and involvement with what she was doing filled the air around him.

_Gods, she's beautiful! _Ron couldn't help himself from thinking. Then, just as that thought came to him, another followed on its heels. _I'm going to be dealing with that feeling again very, very soon, I'm afraid._

The fishing had actually gone quite well, once Hermione had explained once again almost everything she had told Ron the first time.

"Weren't you even listening?" she demanded.

Ron rubbed his face with his hand quickly, hoping that it would look like an excuse for the ruddy glow. He was too embarrassed to tell her he'd been thinking about, well-_other_ things while she'd been telling him about fishing. 

"Er...I guess I just wasn't awake yet-or something," Ron explained lamely.

"You seemed to be plenty awake earlier," she noted, blushing and unable to look at him as she said it. She started explaining the most important points again.

Despite the fact that Ron was horrified at the thought of actually eating the fish, he gave in and let her transfigure some equipment for him to help her catch some for the others. By mid-morning, Ron and Hermione had ended up with four fairly good-sized trout and three smaller ones. It wouldn't be truly a feast for six people, but it would likely fill them up for the morning, at least, along with maybe a potato or two.

As the two of them neared the cottage along the trail at the top of the cliffs, Hermione stopped and stared far down the jagged coastline. She turned and looked out over the ocean, then swung around to peer inland, a look of puzzlement and confusion on her face.

"What's wrong now, Hermione?" Ron asked. "Scouting for more fishing places?"

"Holes. They're called fishing holes," Hermione said distractedly. She continued to look from one point to the other, obviously deep in thought. "And I'm not sure if anything's wrong." She pointed due south, in the direction of the coastline. "Look at the fog."

Ron peered in the direction she was pointing. Several miles down, there was a virtual wall of fog, deep and thick, still settled far inland even at this time of the morning. Though there was a light mist from the ocean waves between them and the fog wall, the air was otherwise clear and sunny. "Yeah...And?"

"Now look out over the ocean. Do you see it?" Hermione nodded toward the ocean. Again, the fog had set in, appearing as a wall several miles out to sea. But, as with the coastline, it was clear between them and the fog wall.

"Okay. I see it there, too," Ron said, trying to process what she was getting at.

"Now look inland, toward the castle ruins."

"Hermione, I see the fog," Ron said, a bit impatiently. "All around us, but-"

"And we can't see what's north of us because the hills block our view. But I'll bet you we'd see the same thing," Hermione explained.

"It's just fog. Doesn't it blow in patches sometimes?" Ron reasoned.

"Yes, but look how thick it is everywhere else, but there's nothing here and nothing even as far away as the castle ruin, either," Hermione stated. "It's as if it stops at a certain point. The night before last, after the Quidditch match, there was plenty of fog here, too."

"So? Who can explain the weather? And who cares? The fog probably just burned off here first and we're just the lucky ones today," Ron said, closing his eyes and tilting his face toward the warm sunlight.

"Last night-through the window in the loft- I could see the moon, and it was lovely," she said thoughtfully. "But there was no fog then, either."

Ron turned his face back down to look at her, feeling like the topic had been covered sufficiently. "Hermione, I don't see what this has to do with anything."

Hermione still had a perplexed expression on her face. "I'm not sure I do, either. It's just- strange, that's all. Maybe it's a leftover effect from when that Beeles fellow was changing the weather around."

"Yeah, that could be. Maybe," Ron admitted. "Can we talk about something _else_now?"

"Sure. Go get a bucket of water so we can clean the fish," Hermione requested.

Ron eyed her suspiciously. "They just came out of the water. How can they be dirty already?"

Hermione laughed. "No, it's not because they're _dirty_. We have to _clean_ them before we cook them. It's like- remember in Potions when we were dissecting and had to remove all the entrails and everything? The day you threw the crocodile heart at Malfoy? This is basically the same slimy thing, only _please_don't throw it this time."

Ron looked nostalgic for a moment, then started to laugh. "Yeah, I rather enjoyed that. Really loved the smacking sound when the heart hit him in the face-and the look on _his_face after. That was one detention that was worth it. I almost wish Malfoy was here."

"No, you don't," Hermione said. "We've got enough problems on our hands without him being around, too. Now-that bucket of water, please?"

# # #

"They're fighting again? Which one started it this time?" the Dark Lord bellowed, able to tell from the fearful demeanor of the little man, that he had been trying to deal with the dementors again.

He watched as Wormtail shrank from the volume of his voice. "I'm not sure which ones they are, Master. How can you tell them apart?"

"I knew I should have brought someone with me who owned an ounce of brains," Voldemort growled to himself. He was seated in a tall, wide chair with pillows propped under his arms, and around his body. It felt like he'd been here for months, in actuality it had only been a day and a half. Despite any efforts his servant made to make him feel more comfortable, nothing except watching Potter squirming before him would give him any pleasure.

"The only thing they told me is that the two who went with the girl to the Quidditch match were very angry when they returned to the group. They had no idea, Master, that you would be allowing the others a feeding while they were gone," Wormtail explained.

"That was necessary! Can't they see that? The day I went to them in the dungeon I was certain that if I didn't let them feed, they'd soon end up consuming each other and we have nothing to replace them with. Even the most loyal Death Eater couldn't do what they're capable of-especially to Potter." Voldemort could feel the orb slipping and turned to face straight ahead again. "By Slytherin's ghost, this thing is impossible to maintain and get anything else done!"

Six feet in front of Voldemort's face, rotating in thin air, was a glittering silver ball. As he spoke to Wormtail, the ball had begun to oscillate a bit, tilting slightly on its axis, and wobbling some from side to side. Once he returned his attention to it, his concentration smoothed out its rotation, stabilizing it back into its normal pattern.

"I feel like I'm playing with a child's toy, Wormtail. Playing at games, and I have nothing to show for it!" Voldemort began the sentence with an intense whine, his voice building to a crescendo. Finally, he turned on Wormtail, screaming. "What have you and the dementors done to bring Potter here?"

Voldemort already knew that Wormtail was terrified of approaching the dementors in the dungeons with all of the snarling, fighting, and biting going on between them. It was probably true that the dementors were unlikely to listen to the sniveling little man, but Voldemort was sick of having to do everything, and hold the orb aloft as well.

"They've communicated nothing to me, My Lord," Wormtail said quietly, so hunched over and pulled into himself in fear that his voice was barely audible.

"Speak up, Wormtail!"

"Nothing," the little man squeaked out.

"Nothing!" Voldemort snarled. "Nothing! What good are you to me then, Wormtail, if you cannot complete such a simple task, even with your simple mind? Let me think. How could you be useful to me if you can't do this? Perhaps those two dementors who were left out would like a little hors-d'oevres to tide them over until the real feeding. Of course, there are two of them, and one of you, so they'd likely tear you into two large, mangled pieces to have their way with you. That would still give them ten seconds or so to suck your soul from what remained of your mutilated carcass."

Wormtail was shivering so violently in fear that his breath came in short, gasping spurts. His eyes were more red-rimmed and watery than usual after enduring the Dark Lord's wrath, and he seemed like a small child on the verge of wetting himself.

Wormtail finally worked up the courage to tell him. "We don't know exactly where he is, My Lord. The dementors who went with the girl told me that she didn't bring him back with her. She failed in her task. But I'm certain you had the power of the orb in motion by the time they were to leave for Hogwarts. That would mean Potter's still here in Ireland somewhere, Master."

Voldemort's red, snaky eyes flashed with anger."_If_he didn't get away in the night when the orb was shut down by the miscalculations that boob from the M.M.S. sent me. But there's only one way to find out! Send the dementors back to her! They must tell us, so we can move on with our plans," Voldemort stated firmly.

Wormtail looked horrified at the mention of visiting the dungeon. He began to whine again. "But, Master, they'd be more likely to go if you tell them to. They're impressed with your power over the orb. I'm certain you'd have your answer more quickly if you went to the dungeons yourself."

"How can I, you fool? I have to sit here manipulating this infernal little ball to keep the shield up." Voldemort paused for a moment, then made an ugly noise of frustration. "Must I do _everything_ myself? All right, then! I'll collapse the shield for a short time-I'm losing my sanity trying to keep it aloft anyway. _I'll _deal with the dementors. But only because _you'll_ be finding that bloody idiot from the M.M.S. and getting him here _now! _There _must_be an easier way to hold this ridiculous thing aloft and still get to Potter. As incompetent as the rest of you are, my keeping this shield afloat may be completely futile! Now go! Before I throw you to the dementors as a peace offering myself!"

Wormtail scurried from the room, appearing relieved to be dismissed with his body and soul intact.

Voldemort focused on the glittering silver ball, still floating and spinning in front of him. He carefully stretched out one arm, opening his palm wide so that the ball could slide through the air and into his long, pale fingers. It descended at his will, spun in his palm momentarily, then ceased in its rotation and lay still.

"Quite a wondrous little invention, Professor Fuentes," Voldemort said to himself. "Too bad that imbeciles got hold of it and turned it into an asinine little weather device. I'm sure I can adapt it to much more appropriate purposes with a little time and effort. Little did they know they created an orb that would seal the magic within, and would seal everything else- including magic-out."

Voldemort grasped the ball with both hands and set it into a stand inside an ornate silver case. He turned on his heel to head for the Dungeons, stepping gingerly over the pile on the floor that was the sleeping Nagini.

Descending the stairs into the dungeons, the stench attacked his nostrils at the same time his eyes were trying to adjust to the dimness. As he approached, he could hear them.

Voldemort had never really minded the sounds that the dementors made, because to him, the gurgling, wheezing, shrieking, and growling were all sounds that he associated with animals and people who were hurt or dying. He had heard a rumor that the sounds alone could terrify Muggles into fainting, at which point they were, of course, lost to the dementors-or, at least, their souls were.

He studied the scene before him. Of the eleven dementors, two were at the center of the group, with the others surrounding them. Those on the outside were making most of the noises, floating eagerly around the two in the middle in anticipation of some fascinatingly horrible act to come. _If they were wild dogs, they'd be salivating-circling for the kill, _the Dark Lord thought.

But what fascinated Voldemort the most was something he had never seen before. The two Dementors in the center of the group must have been tearing at each other for some time. Their robes were shredded; bony protrusions were splayed and poking out jaggedly from the place where their gray, scabby claws usually were. What remained of the claws dripped and oozed grayish-black goo.

Neither the audience nor the fighters even noticed his presence as the opponents struggled with each other, floating upright with jaws locked together, gaping mouths fused in the fight. The two adversaries in the center of the circle continued to shake their heads from time to time to cause further damage as their invisible, pointed teeth sunk further into their opponent's skulls. The loud shrieks emanating from them were not cries of pain, but were intended to further intimidate their respective foe.

Voldemort watched from his post on the stair, fascinated by the brutality of the scene, but he finally forced himself to refocus on the important task at hand..

"Silence, you mongrels!" Voldemort shouted from the stairs.

The dementors around the edge all stopped what they were doing, and swung around to face the voice. The two in the middle kept circling.

"There's nothing I'd love more than to just sit here and watch you idiots rip yourselves to bits, but we haven't got time for that now. You must go to the girl-all of you except those two." Voldemort indicated the two dementors who had been locked in battle.

The dementor who Voldemort had always judged to be the leader turned to look at the tall, pale being with the twitching hands. The black-cloaked figure shook its head in response. Several of the other dementors floated up closer behind their 'speaker' as an apparent show of unity.

Voldemort was livid. "What? WHAT? You refuse ME?" The Dark Lord's voice rang from the walls of the dungeon. He plunged his hand into his cloak and pulled out his wand, aiming directly at what would be the heart of the dementor-if it ever had one. Rage had forced him to this, but the desire to have Potter stopped him from completing the task.

In a low, tremulous voice, Voldemort whispered, "If I had anything, or anyone to replace your skills, you'd all be wishing you'd stayed at Azkaban. You already know there are fates worse than death. But you may need to be reminded of the horrors of the nightmare-_your_worst nightmare-that endures until the end of time. That happens to be something I can arrange-for all of you!" Voldemort's eyes passed slowly over their hideous faces, one at a time, until he was certain his point had been made.

The speaker held up his claw-like hand, bidding Voldemort to wait. Once he was convinced the Dark Lord was prepared to do so, he moved the hand up to his mouth, swishing the air into the gaping orifice.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the being in irritation, but continued to watch his pantomime nonetheless.

The dementor leader then moved his hand down over his chest, and circled it there a moment to indicate himself, next holding the claw out open to Voldemort.

"Ahhh. Hide-and-Go-Seek with Potter, playing at Balling-the-Jack with the orb, and now with you fools, it's Charades. Is there no end to the fun?" Voldemort grumbled to himself. "You greedy little PIGS! You've just had a feeding, not two days ago-and now you want another? Perfect, just perfect. I agree to let you feed, and all it does is whet your appetite for more." The Dark Lord paused, thinking. "So, what's the ante this time? One Muggle apiece? Two? A visit to this-this village nearby to eat your fill?"

The dementors started to squirm about excitedly. A few began to make obscene, little grunting noises. Their leader turned to the group and held up his claw to silence them.

"BUT-" Voldemort said, "There will be no feeding until Potter is in my possession. Do I make myself clear? _Until Potter is in my possession!"_

The excited gruntings and gasping within the dementor group gave way to disappointed mutterings.

"We do it my way, or you get nothing at all! All this time, I've been shielding you ingrates from the Ministry, doing Memory Charms on those you come into contact with, so that you can continue feeding without anyone else in the world knowing. Otherwise, they would have been onto you long ago, using their Patronus charms on you. I've been your safety net, my little flock."

"If you wait to feed and bring me Potter, we all get what we want. I have the opportunity to take his power and toy with him before sending him on to his mummy and daddy. You get to stuff yourselves with souls and have me clean up your mess. All without the interference of that meddling Ministry, bumbling as they may be." Voldemort paused to let it sink in.

"But should you decide to go your own way, to feed or search for food, then you are no longer in my good graces. If you choose that road, you'd better _hope_ that the Ministry catches you and does their worst. Because if I find you first...you can believe _my_ worst is what _I'll_do."

The explanation and the threat took a moment to sink in, but seemed to be effective once it did. The dementors momentarily turned their faces to one another, in some form of intercommunication Voldemort didn't understand.

The speaker, who had been doing the same as the others, finally turned back to Voldemort. He dipped his head a bit, and held his claw out in a peacemaking gesture to the Dark Lord. Apparently, they had a deal.

Voldemort looked at the offered claw, and refused it, recoiling in disgust. "Good. I'm glad we understand each other. So, as I said before-all except those two-" he indicated the two dementors who had been shredded in their fight- "go to the girl's mind. See if she's with him. We've warned her what will happen to her grandmother if she fails to lure Potter to her. She's a stupid little girl, but she's not that stupid. If Potter's not with her, you have her find him-and you go with her, as well. Once you know where he is, then-you," pointing at the speaker, "You! Come to me upstairs-I'll have the plan ready for you to go and collect him, since none of you seem capable of making such a scheme yourselves. Understood?"

The dementors all dipped their heads once in agreement.

"Good. Now I must return to my_ real_ work. I must get that orb aloft again so Potter can't get out of the country. And you'd better pray to any gods you know that my little visit down here to settle_ your_ridiculous problems didn't set him free."

Voldemort turned to ascend the stairs, muttering to himself angrily as he did so. "If only I didn't have all the Death Eaters spread so thin these days. I could use someone with brains to help me here. Overtaking the wizarding world is hardly as glamorous as one would imagine when you still have to deal with placating the hired help."

Approaching his chair to settle in and raise the barrier once more, Voldemort saw that his pet was awake and waiting for him. Nagini had slithered up near the glittering silver ball, knowing her master would return there first, and that she could get his attention from there.

Voldemort reached down, gently lifting her head and the upper part of her body in his arms. He held her face to his, where her forked tongue flicked out and tickled at his taut, pasty cheek.

"Nagini, my dear, you are the only one who gives me no trouble. The only thing you ever show is impatience, which I can truly understand. For I am impatient for you as well, my dear." Voldemort began to think back about the Embodiment Spell and all that he'd learned while trying to restore himself to life within his own body. All that knowledge was going to come in handy when the time came for Nagini to be absorbed into Valeria's body, effectively ending the girl's life as it had ever existed. "As I promised, you shall have your body soon, my love. And a very lovely body it is, too-one we can both enjoy."


	16. Foggy Feelings

**~ Chapter 16 ~ **  
**Foggy Feelings**

"Eerrrgh! Those things stink! All you have to do is _smell_fish cooking to know why you shouldn't eat it!" Ron complained, walking toward the window to get a breath of fresh air.

Hermione, Fred, and Harry were holding several stripped branches out over the fire in the hearth, each stick topped with a roasting trout. Sitting near the coals on an old metal tray Valeria had found when she first came, were some more of the pinched potatoes, roasting as well.

"Some fisherman you are," Fred said, teasing his little brother. "Won't even eat the fish you caught."

"I didn't mind _catching_ them. Actually, that was quite wicked," Ron replied proudly. "But I _never_said I was going to eat one."

"Fine, then. Suit yourself," Hermione said haughtily. "Have a potato."

Ron grimaced, even though he knew that it was his only choice if he was to satisfy his roaring stomach at all. He looked over to where George was sitting and staring at the orange fishing hat Portkey, apparently trying to remember all he could about the spells necessary to re-set it, should they run into more problems with transporting tonight.

At that moment, Valeria appeared at the open doorway, struggling with the largest bucket they had, now full of fresh water. She had been trying to carry it by the handle, but the movement of her walking had started it sloshing from side to side. Fighting to grasp the bucket from the bottom and one side now, her hands were slipping against the wet surface.

Ron rushed over to grab the bucket from her.

"Thank you," she said, turning a shy smile toward him.

"Next time just yell at one of these _lazy_ buggers, like _George_, " Ron said loudly enough to make his brother look up quizzically. "They'll just sit there and never notice that someone needs help, you know, until it's over." He crossed the room to the stone table and set the bucket of water there.

"Yeah," replied George, "and Ronnie, what was it again that _you _were doing that was so bloody important?"

Ron didn't reply, just sneered.

"I guess I'm just used to doing it myself," Valeria replied, following Ron. "And all of you are being nice enough to share your food with me, so I don't want to be a 'lazy bugger', as you call them." She'd never heard the term before, but decided to try it out in order to remember it.

"Heh. As if _that_food's something to get excited about," Ron said, wrinkling his nose at the fishy smell now that he was closer to it again. "Besides, you shared first." He turned to look at Valeria, who was now watching the cooks finishing up with the fish. "So-" he began tentatively, "Feeling better-today?"

Valeria's face went somber again. "Yes, a little."

"No sign of-you know?"

Valeria did seem to know. "No, no sign of them. Not in the usual way." She paused a moment. "It's so strange. It seems like it's been so long, I'm almost-worried."

"But you said they were with you the whole day at the Quidditch match, and that was only-" even Ron had to think about it, so much had happened since then, " -the day before yesterday."

"The Muertos came so often for a month or two before that- sometimes three or four times a day. Maybe I'm just worrying for nothing, but I hope they're not planning something- awful."

"What about yesterday? Wasn't it them that was causing the pain in your head? I didn't see them when I made the connection, but I didn't notice anything else that could be causing it either," Ron said quickly, before thinking about how much it might bother her.

"They've never done that before...in that way...that painfully...it was just- thoughts, my thoughts-that were hurting." Valeria paled as she spoke. She started to shake her head. "I... I can't-" She turned to walk away.

"Wait," Ron said, reaching out a hand on her arm to stop her. "We can talk about something else. I didn't mean to start on that. Really. I'm always doing that to Harry- just ask him."

Harry had just stood from his kneeling position in front of the fire to push the smoldering fish from the stick in his hand onto a broken wooden platter on their 'table'. He glanced briefly at Ron's hand on Valeria's arm. "What? Just ask me what?"

Ron registered his friend's glance and quickly removed his hand. "I told Valeria that I sometimes drag you into conversations you really don't want to have."

Harry smiled a little at Valeria. "Oh, yeah. He's done that. Once or twice." He rolled his eyes.

"I suppose that's as done as we need to get it."

Hermione's voice at Ron's other elbow made him jump, though he wasn't sure why it had that effect on him. She was pushing the fish she and Fred had roasted onto the platter as well, as Fred was trying to balance a hot tray of rolling potatoes while holding its edge with his jumper hem. All of them were surprised when Fred made it to the table without losing any of them.

Hermione checked over everything on the stone table and frowned. "Oh, yes!" she said suddenly, and disappeared out of the door, only to reappear with what looked like roughly fashioned heavy brown disks. She set them on the table. "Here we are-plates! Or something like them, anyway."

"Where'd you get those?" Fred asked, turning one over in his hands.

"Oh, you know," Hermione answered. "A bit of tree bark, a few Girl Guide techniques, a little Transfiguration...I made them this morning before I started fishing. And before I was so _rudely_interrupted." She turned her gaze toward Ron, looking at him accusingly, but with eyes twinkling.

"Rudely, eh?" Ron countered, eyebrows raised at her. "Funny-I don't remember it that way at all."

No one had noticed Valeria was looking carefully at one of the plates after picking it up. "You _made_this? Out of tree bark? How did you say you did it?"

Everyone's attention swung to Valeria at once, then back to Hermione.

"Er, I don't know, really-I can't explain it-exactly. Learned it in Girl Guides-campouts and such," Hermione stuttered quickly, trying not to get mired in the explanation.

"You must have worked very hard there," Valeria said sincerely. "I saw you light the fire this morning before you left, and it was amazing. I've seen people start a fire by rubbing _two_sticks together. But you only needed one, and you did it so fast! Then the fire was blue! I've never seen it blue before."

Hermione reddened and chuckled once, nervously. "Heh. Well. Just takes practice, I suppose. You know, I think I'll go wash my hands after holding those cooking sticks so long. Go ahead and eat, just make sure you save me some," she said quickly, and walked out of the door again.

Ron was sitting on the edge of the sofa, holding his plate and chewing with disgust on a hot, dry potato when Hermione returned. She got herself a plate, filled it with a potato and some fish, then returned to sit by Ron, across from Harry.

Hermione looked over to see that Valeria was being entertained across the room by Fred and George before speaking in a whisper to her two best friends. "That was clever of me, wasn't it? I didn't even know she was awake this morning!"

"I wouldn't worry about it. I don't think she's got much mental energy to spare for figuring out about our magic. And if she does, she's got some weird stuff going on with her, too. Besides, she saw the Quidditch match- she thinks the brooms are mechanically powered to fly, somehow, but..." Harry trailed off, plucking a small bone from a piece of fish and pushing it into his mouth. "Mmm...I've never been that fond of fish, but this tastes _really_good."

"Yeah, that's just the starvation talking," Ron said dryly.

"I see _you_haven't changed your mind about trying some," Hermione noted, looking at Ron's plate.

"Nope. Never."

Hermione shrugged. "Oh, well. Your loss. Hmm-I've forgotten to get some water." She set her plate down on the sofa and stood to cross the room for a plastic bottle.

While her back was turned, Ron reached over and tore a piece from her fish, popping it into his mouth quickly. At first wincing, expecting to hate it, he suddenly looked pleasantly surprised. Since Hermione was still busy filling her water bottle, Ron took several more large pieces and shoved them into his mouth at once until it was so full, he could hardly chew it all.

Harry, who had been watching, smirked silently at his friend. Ron held his finger to his lips, hurriedly trying to chew and swallow.

When Hermione returned, she set the water bottle on the floor and picked up her plate to set in her lap. Looking down, she noticed a great deal of her fish was missing. Aware that Harry still had some on his plate, she assumed it wasn't him who took it. Hermione glared accusingly at Ron.

"What?" he asked through the fish that was left in his mouth, trying to endure her stare.

"Doing a little Vanishing Charm to the things on my plate, are you?" she asked.

"What do you mean...? I have my own potato, thank you...You can't mean the fish. I don't touch the stuff, remember? You must have taken that little one-the one _you_caught," Ron said rapidly, so that she couldn't get a word in edgewise. "Oh, now I see the problem-you just must be really hungry, Hermione-you just wolfed down almost all of that fish! I'll get you some more this time, but do keep in mind that you can't be greedy-we've all got to ration ourselves here. Some of us are even willing to sacrifice and give up our portions of fish completely." Ron reached for her plate, stood, and walked over to the divider to fill it again with some of what was left of the food.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron's back for a moment. She then turned her questioning gaze to Harry, who shrugged and stared down at his plate as he ate until Ron returned.

A short while later, all six diners found themselves standing around the table, staring longingly at the empty tray and the wooden plate.

"This is ridiculous," George complained. "That put a dent in my appetite, but not much more. I'm certainly glad we'll be back at Hogwarts by tonight."

Valeria was wide-eyed. "You will?"

"Well, yeah, we should be," Fred replied quickly, then considered what she must be thinking. "I mean, if the Portkey-I mean-the way we go back-works this time."

"So you're riding back to your school on a Portkey? Where is it? Did you leave it in the woods?" Valeria asked earnestly.

Fred and George looked at each other in one of the rare moments that they were both at a loss for words. They appeared to be frantically thinking about how to explain Portkey transportation to a Muggle without arousing undue curiosity, even though the curiosity was already in evidence. It was either that, or lie outright.

The twins turned to Harry and Ron, who seemed stumped by the situation themselves. Harry and Ron tried to shrug inconspicuously, indicating they had no idea what to say, and that the twins were on their own.

It was Ron who eventually broke the awkward silence in an attempt to change the subject as well. "I've been thinking. How far did you say that village was, Valeria?"

Valeria considered the question. "Maybe five kilometers or so. Fred and George were probably about halfway there when they were at the potato farmer's place."

"In case we can't get back to school the 'regular' way later, we'd better have a look around-find some other options. We haven't seen that anyone from Hogwarts or the Ministry is trying to get to us," Ron said. "Although that seems a little strange, too. Maybe we could find something else to eat along the way-another farm- or, I don't know-something."

Hermione took the hint. "...So we need to do some more fishing then. I know some of you don't _like_fish," Hermione said, glaring at Ron, " but it didn't take long for us to catch them."

"George and I were going to try and put together exactly what we could remember about re-setting the Portkey," Fred said. "Just in case we have the same problem as last time. I mean, it's been a couple of years since we, er, liberated that information from the Ministry."

"Well, that's okay. But maybe if Hermione's going to the creek, you guys could go with her-so she doesn't have to go alone," Ron suggested.

"Because as we all know, I can't take care of my_self_," Hermione said sarcastically, looking accusingly at Ron once more. "Besides, aren't you going to help me again?"

"Er, well...I was thinking..." Ron made an exasperated noise, but continued. "Valeria, do you feel up to going to the village? I mean, you've been there before-you know-" Ron almost said 'about the Muggles', but he caught himself. "You know your way around a bit, I suppose."

"I've only been there once. But I guess I could go. It's just that -" Valeria hesitated a bit before continuing "-I didn't want people finding out I lived out here-alone and all."

Ron realized he had never thought about her issues with the dementors from her perspective, and how it had effectively separated her from the rest of her Muggle world. He'd never thought about how sad it was that she felt she had to live alone, either, because of the dementors who tormented her brain. She hadn't asked to be haunted so mercilessly, and be forced to live with an unfathomable horror. No wonder the girl was suicidal.

"Well, now they won't have to think you live here alone. We can pretend to be your-cousins, or something," Ron reasoned. _So Hermione, Fred, and George are staying here. I guess Harry can come with us. But what if the dementors come while we're on our way, and they try to come after Harry? Would I be able to help stop them? True, I took care of the boggart, but a dementor? And maybe more than one? If Harry stays, Valeria will be away from him, so that threat's gone-I think. We haven't seen any dementors outside of Valeria's experiences with them. Hermione, Fred, and George could help him if he needed it...I reckon it ought to be just Valeria and I going to the village._

"Maybe you should stay here, too, Harry," Ron said, thinking he would explain his reasons to his best friend later.

"Er-why?" Harry countered, sounding a little suspicious.

Ron's voice had been so commanding in trying to hide his insecurity, it caused the rest of them to look at him strangely-especially Hermione. He was surprised by their reaction.

_I'm not going to just blurt it out, Harry, that I'm still not sure if I can take on the dementors and come out the winner. I don't know if we'll end up facing them or not, but maybe your staying here will help save your arse_, _you git. _"Maybe Hermione can show you how to fish, too, so together you two can catch more for dinner," Ron said. But somehow, his reason came out sounding more like an excuse.

"I have some more money-a little bit. I don't know how much it will buy. I don't understand what it's worth here," Valeria offered. "Maybe you know."

"Er...probably not," Ron said.

"But I'll share it with you." She looked at Ron hopefully, then paused a moment, thinking. "I mean, with everyone."

Hermione's head snapped up, presumably to see Ron's reaction to Valeria's offer, her eyes narrowed a bit, her expression serious. The other boys seemed to notice her reaction and quickly found something else to busy themselves with in other areas of the cottage.

Ron was a little embarrassed by the offer, but he thought Valeria was just trying to share again, and to fit in. "That's okay. You don't have to do that. It's your money," Ron responded.

"I'll take it with me anyway. Just in case. Then we can leave," Valeria said brightly, heading toward her cot.

"It seems like she enjoys going into the village," Hermione said, a bit sullenly. "She certainly perked up when she heard about going with you."

"Yeah," Ron said, ignoring the implication and completely distracted by his own thoughts. He reached for Hermione's elbow and guided her toward the far side of the room, away from everyone, where he spoke to her in a hushed voice. "I want to try and find some other way to get us out of here-a fellytone, or something. I'm sure she knows how to use one, and there's got to be one in the town. Besides- this way, she and Harry will be apart, so we don't have to worry about the dementors as much, in case they show up with her. And I can connect with her and help, if she needs it."

"That will be convenient, won't it?" Hermione asked dryly. "So why can't Fred and George go?"

_Wasn't she listening? _"Because they're going to work on recalling the Portkey spell, remember? Plus, they tend to, er-attract attention."

"I thought they weren't going to do anything with the Portkey until we try to use it tonight."

Her tone of voice bothered Ron. He spoke slowly, as if explaining to a young child. "They're trying to remember just in case it doesn't work. Do you have any better ideas?"

Hermione looked up into his face with an angry/searching/on-the-verge-of-something expression that he'd never seen before. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but wouldn't, and was nervously fiddling with her fingernails. Suddenly, she couldn't look at him any more and snapped her eyes down to stare at her hands, biting her lip.

There were no words to help him again, just like before in the Owlery. _I'm supposed to know what this means, I think. And I'm in big trouble that I don't have a clue, I think. What's wrong with you, Hermione? You never acted like this before._

"I got us into this, I have to try and get us out. But in the meantime we have to keep Harry safe. If it works out, maybe we can help Valeria, too. That's all," Ron explained, pausing. He then looked as if something suddenly occurred to him. "Did you want to go-to the village?" he asked, but it came out sounding like an afterthought.

Still looking at her hands, Hermione said flatly, "No."

The air was heavy with something Ron didn't recognize and there was a space big enough for a Norwegian Ridgeback to fly through in their conversation.

_She's not talking. Am I supposed to say something else?_Ron was beginning to feel a bit edgy, but wasn't sure why. "Hermione, are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Just fine," she said, her voice tense, yet a bit shaky, as she strode away from him and through the open door.

# # #

"You must be joking, Mad-Eye," Sirius Black said, making sure he emphasized the nickname sufficiently. He was standing knee-deep in the same field of crops he'd unintentionally visited just the day before. He and Moody had run into the barrier again today while Apparating, but at least this time, knowing about it had prepared them for it.

Moody narrowed his eyes a bit at Sirius. "No. No joke about it," Moody replied with dead seriousness, squinting up through the light mist that was falling on his face.

"So, we create the illusion that we're flat, disc-shaped silver objects while we're airborne, in case a Muggle spots us flying in the daytime. And this helps them make sense of it if they see us?" Sirius was incredulous.

"Well, only to some of them. We're just making use of an explanation they came up with themselves. Some of them already believe the objects exist, so we do them the favor of becoming them," Moody explained. "Serves our purposes, too, so why not?"

"Still sounds like a crock of skrewt dung. What in the hell do they think these things in the sky are, then?" Sirius was sometimes amazed at the types of things that fascinated Muggles, but then, the wizarding world had their strange obsessions, too.

"The Muggles think the discs are from space, or some bloody, idiotic thing. We Aurors only use this whenever the flying _has_to be done-gives us an alibi if we are spotted... Luckily, the Muggles don't always see us, and we try not to use it too often."

Moody began to wax nostalgic. "I do remember the ruckus one time with a gang of young, hotshot wizards from the United States-place called New Mexico, I think. They were cited by the Ministry because they set up this illusion, then flew about just to cause a stir. They'd fly in formation, five or six of them, then take off in different directions, right out there in front of everybody. There'd be Muggles screaming, taking pictures, running about. At the same time, the Muggles even made up some far-fetched tale about a spaceship crashing and beings from another planet being captured. And there were the wizards-the whole time-laughing up a storm while they watched the Muggles panic. That was a long time ago, though, thank Merlin-lately it's just an occasional sighting now and again," Moody explained. "What's funniest is what they call them."

"What's that?"

"Unidentified Flying Objects-UFO's for short."

"So I'm on my way to becoming a UFO then. That means I'd be an IFO to you, since you know me so-intimately, after our tracking days together-or should I say-your days of tracking me?" Sirius joked.

Moody's one eye that focused on Black didn't look especially amused.

Sirius relented, the smile departing his face. "Yeah, you're right. Really bad joke." He cleared his throat and looked to the low cloud ceiling that hung not far overhead. "I think it's too foggy for any Muggles to see anything today, but I reckon it may not stay that way. All right, old man-if someone like you's willing to fly with this illusion thing, who am I to object?"

"Don't you even think about calling me an old man until you've kept up with me on a flying expedition, Black," Moody said, stone-faced.

Sirius was never one to back down from a challenge. "You're on. Let's go, then, and we'll see if I can keep up-Mad-Eye."

Waving their wands momentarily over their broomsticks to enable the UFO illusion, and chanting the spell separately, they mounted and pushed off from the ground. The two men had agreed to fly the parameters of the barrier, or shield, in a very methodical way, to get a grasp on how large, how deep, and how well-rooted, magically, it could be. Shooting tester sparks from their wands from time to time at what was completely invisible, made it easier to find the point at which the sparks were resisted.

They started by flying straight up, to see if they could find the point at which the barrier ended at the top. But what they found surprised them-its enormous size and its shape were completely unexpected. Most magical barriers they were familiar with were created as flat planes that could be curved, bent, or angled to shape once they were initially conceived. The two men had also expected to be able to reach the top edge of the barrier at some point, and be able to climb over it to the other side, but this didn't hold true either.

Instead, the barrier kept climbing, but began to curve. Thinking that perhaps there was a separate spell that handled the domed roof of the structure, the two searched for a seam in the spells, one that would seal the dome shape to the curved, upright planes of the walls. But, after some more testing of the walls, they found no seam, and instead found that virtually all of the walls had some degree of curve to them as well, such as a sphere might have. Still, they knew of no spells grand enough to create a sustainable sphere shape as a shield, and this was a very big sphere, indeed.

Though it was dangerous to fly too close together in fog this thick, Moody and Black swung near enough to signal to one another that they would meet on top of the fog bank. The two were hoping that the marine layer was only several thousand feet deep today, so that the thinner air at the highest altitude wouldn't make them dizzy.

Pulling out of the cold clamminess of the clouds into the bright, warm sunshine, they squinted for a few minutes, until their eyes adjusted.

"I still say I've never seen anything like it. We've always been able to fly over the top at some point," Moody said, shaking his head. "Do we try to fly all the way around it-or what? We could try breaking the spell, I suppose, but that looks a bit more specialized than what I've done before. You ever tried to break something like that?"

"Can't say as I have..." Sirius trailed off, becoming distracted by something over Moody's shoulder. "Mad-Eye-are my eyes still adjusting, or do you see what I see?"

Moody flinched a bit at Black's usage of his nickname so freely. "What? Where?" Moody tilted his disfigured head so that he wasn't facing where Sirius was staring, but his magical third eye must have been looking that way. "Well, I'll be a son-of-a-... What in bloody blue blazes is that thing?"

Sirius, and now Moody, were staring at what appeared to be a hole in the fogbank-a gargantuan hole. Though it was only roughly a circular shape from what they could see, there was no doubt that something was holding the fog back.

Visually scanning in all other directions, Black could see an endless blanket of gray-white just below him. But close to the two of them, where the edge of the barrier probably stood, was the hole. Its diameter would have to be measured in miles, as large as it was, for there was no far side to be seen as it faded into the white, misty air.

The two men approached the cleared area slowly. Firing sparks toward the edge, they were not surprised that the sparks bounced off, deflected by that maddeningly invisible screen.

Black and Moody decided they would split up and fly around both sides of the circle, to see if they could find any weak points in the magic, or at least find the approximate size of the hole. Planning to meet on the far side, or return back to this point had they not come together on the other side in an hour, they sped off in opposite directions around the edge of the cleared area.

Twenty minutes later, Sirius flew close to the edge and tried to look down through the opening in the clouds to find out if he could see anything on the ground. What he found he _could _see was a reflection, of sorts, of the few, puffy white clouds above him. Staring more intensely, there was a milky, greenish tinge to the background, as if perhaps the ground was there somewhere, but what the view reminded him of most was the ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts-definitely a reflection of something elsewhere, rather than a clear view of what was actually below him.

Checking momentarily to see if Moody was anywhere in sight, Sirius reached into his robes and pulled out a rolled strip of parchment. He carefully adjusted his knees and placed them against the broomstick in such a way that he knew he would be able to maneuver just perfectly while flying hands-free. After all, he'd done it for years-his body had taken a while to rebuild after the years in Azkaban, but he had returned to normal in less time than he thought he would. He had retrained his sinewy leg muscles to respond to even the centimeter's adjustment that would keep him from tipping or veering in the wrong direction. _I'll have to teach Harry how to do this sometime,_ he thought. _Harry would think it was pretty cool._ Then Sirius began to think what a daredevil his godson was on a broomstick already._ Hmmm,_ he thought ..._maybe not.  
_  
Hands now free, Sirius ran one hand through his long, black hair to push it out of his face before he pulled the parchment scroll open. It hadn't been difficult to track down a map of Northern Ireland, but only a magical map would show the location of the Ballycastle Bats Quidditch Stadium, and that had been tough to find.

Black briefly watched the points on the map adjust themselves as his position in the sky changed. Sirius had used maps ever since Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs had created the Marauder's Map. He had always enjoyed discovering all the secrets a good chart could hold.

Yet most adult wizards he knew didn't use maps, though he could not imagine why. It was just one of those commonly accepted (_and stupid_, he thought) ideas that had taken hold. People seemed to feel that maps were only for witches and children, though witches were wont to lord it over the wizards when they easily found their destination using the map, while the wizard was flying stubbornly in his chosen direction.

Apparently, wizards were to know their way around the world without the help of a piece of parchment, though in reality, the thought itself was completely absurd. But, even so, Black thought, he certainly wouldn't want to have a map out when he ran into Moody again-it would be downright embarrassing. Sirius checked the skies again for any dark, flying specks that he hadn't noticed before.

Peering carefully at the unfurled parchment, Sirius looked for the location of the Quidditch stadium. Though the lettering seemed a bit fuzzy, he finally found the words, _Ballycastle Memorial Stadium_. Still attempting to find some landmark on the ground that he could recognize, he looked down through the hole in the fog, receiving nothing more for his trouble than another view of the unfocused, milky, green-tinged reflection. Returning his gaze to the map, he had to look twice at the dot.

It had moved. Not just in relation to his location as he flew, like the other areas. The dot itself had disappeared-it had faded from the place where it was. As he watched in amazement, the dot reappeared in a completely different location. The Quidditch stadium dot continued to fade from one place, then appear somewhere else, darken, focus and come to the surface yet again. It appeared that the map itself was undecided as to where Ballycastle Stadium was.

This was not your usual case of a location being unplottable. Making a place magically 'unplottable' would simply cause it not to appear on a map at all. The effects of whatever magic was at work on this particular map were completely unfamiliar to him.

All of the areas outside of a certain circular area on the map remained for the most part unchanged. But within that circle on the map, Sirius watched as not only the stadium, but several other marked locations faded and changed with great frequency.

Trying to make sense of this occurrence, Sirius was distracted from watching where he was going. Flying hands-free was one thing, but doing it blind was quite another. Black drew too close to the edge of the barrier and bounced off, deflected as he had been twice before while trying to pass through. Crushing the map as he grabbed, he got his hands on the broomstick just in time to save himself from falling off as he spiraled out over the fog bank.

As Sirius regained control of his ride, he turned to head back closer to the edge of the gaping hole in the fog.

"What were you doing way out there?" said a deep, gruff voice, coming from near his right side.

Sirius tried to think of something sensible quickly as he and Moody slowed to a stop near one another. "Just- seeing if it appeared any different from a distance," he invented instantly. Looking down at his hands on the broomstick, Sirius realized his parchment was still out, and crunched though it was, there was no doubt about the fact that it was a map.

A slow grin began to spread knowingly across Moody's face. "Need a little direction there, did you, Black?" he asked.

Sirius responded, reddening and mortified, seeing that Moody was doing his best to stifle a chuckle. "Couldn't remember exactly where that stadium was supposed to be. I figured we'd need it because of the fog, if nothing else." _Good, good-story coming together... Besides, he needs to know what's going on here. Swallow the pride..._"You've got to see this thing, Mad-Eye. Look what happens on the map."

Sirius held the parchment out to Moody, who took it and studied it for a minute or two. "Damned thing can't figure out what it's trying to tell us, can it? I never saw anything powerful enough to actually affect a whole area like that, whether it was on a map, or a holograph chart. Still don't know what the hell we have here." Moody allowed the parchment to roll itself up and returned it to Sirius. "Did you notice anything else we can use?"

"No. How about you?"

"Not a damned thing. Not only is this thing huge and powerful, but magically, it's sealed up tighter than a drum. A bloody genius must have come up with this one," Moody commented.

"So what do you think we should do?" Sirius asked. "Harry's still down there-or at least I think he is. I can't just keep leaving him here." Black was beginning to get exasperated once more.

"I say we report to Dumbledore-pool our information. Maybe if we put together everything we know, it'll make more sense. Time to move out until we get more leads." It was apparent from Moody's air that his many years as an Auror had included a great deal of decision-making. His commanding sense of authority also indicated that he was used to having his men follow his direction without question.

"Yeah, all right," Sirius said quietly with a palpable tension in his voice. He resignedly turned his broomstick away from the cleared area and drifted a moment, deep in thought.

"No! Nooo! This is all wrong!" Sirius shouted, suddenly flipping his broomstick back toward the barrier. He sped off in the direction of the enormous sphere, yanking his broom handle up so quickly to stop that Moody looked surprised that Black didn't fly off the other end.

Sirius had come to a halt just inches from where they'd thought the edge of the barrier to be. Backing off only a bit to give himself room, he adjusted the broomstick handle between his knees to be hands-free once more, and plucked his wand from his robe pocket.

Furiously shouting in sequence every spell he could think of that might gain him entrance to the huge sphere, he fired repeatedly and determinedly at the barrier time and again. The sparks were so bright and profuse, Sirius had to duck and turn his head away to avoid the firey shower coming back at him as they were deflected from the sphere's surface. A cloud of leftover spell smoke drifted lazily away from him as Sirius continued ranting at what appeared to be nothing.

Someone more familiar with Sirius Black might have seen the tide rising in him. They might have noticed the dark embers burning in his eyes as he tried to compose himself enough to follow Moody's suggestion calmly and leave until they had more information. But someone more familiar with the ex-prisoner of Azkaban would have also known he could never just leave so quietly-especially when someone he loved was in possible danger beyond that shield.

Moody just sat floating in mid-air, watching the half-crazed young wizard in surprise. He was stone-faced and serious, sitting with his eyes narrowed as he watched Black vent all of his frustrations against the invisible barrier. The old Auror appeared to be wondering if perhaps this man could have been a murderer after all-that kind of passion could make men do either wonderful or terrible things.

Sirius' broomstick was swinging from side to side as he waved his arms and continued to shout. But his efforts to break the barrier's spell were to no avail. His knee slipped against the side of his broom handle and he rolled to the left, grabbing the handle at just the last moment before he fell.

Switching from shouting spells to shouting profanity now, Sirius dangled dangerously in the air. But even more surprising than his sudden loss of balance was what he saw as he looked down.

The milky greenish tinge was gone and there below him, spreading for miles, was the vibrant green Irish countryside, a mere two thousand feet below him. In the distance, he could see the reflection of the ocean glinting in the sunlight. Sirius blinked his eyes, wondering how it had happened until he looked up. He could see his arms to his elbows as he hung from the broomstick. But beyond that, his own arms had disappeared into what was now a milky blue reflection of the sky-and Moody was nowhere to be seen.

Sirius had fallen through the barrier.

At first excited by the prospect of being beyond the walls of the sphere and able to go find Harry, he realized with dismay that it would still be impossible. There was no way to get to the ground since it seemed that nothing magical could pass through the barrier, and that eliminated the idea of his pulling the broomstick through with him. There was certainly no chance that he would survive the fall to the ground if he simply let go, and he had no assurances that his wand would work within the sphere to try and conjure something on the way down that would break his fall.

But his body, at a moment when he wasn't using magic, had fallen through quite easily, just as they had been able to walk through the barrier with no difficulty. Maybe this was something they could tell Dumbledore to clue him in to what this strange barrier could be-this was something they could use. There was nothing else he could do here right now.

Swinging his body from side to side until he was high enough to loop one leg over the broom handle, Sirius didn't even notice when he passed back through the barrier. It felt like air-it felt like-nothing.

"Welcome back," Moody said dryly. "Are we finished now?"

Sirius reddened a bit. "I can live with myself better now that I tried-whether I looked like a raving madman or not." Though Moody maintained his stern appearance, Sirius was a bit surprised when the old Auror didn't try to embarrass him further-maybe the man wasn't so bad after all.

Moody actually appeared to soften his usually gruff demeanor a bit. "I feel for you, Black. You've never even had a chance to get to know the boy, and now..." Moody looked alarmed at what he'd almost said, then spoke quickly to cover. "I hate to leave those Weasley kids down there myself. Arthur Weasley's done a lot for me, even though he tells me he does it to pay me back for watching over his father. I just say, all of us on the right side of the law look after one another, and that's the way it should be." Moody looked a bit wistful for someone as hardened as he was. "Did you see anything to change your mind about going back to Dumbledore with what we've got? There certainly doesn't seem to be any problem with passing through when you're not using magic."

"No," Sirius agreed. "What you see from the underside is basically what you see from the top, only in reverse. The open countryside was below me, but I didn't see anything that would look like a Quidditch pitch. The main problem was that I was still a half kilometer or so in the air with no way down to a soft landing. We could try from the Apparition site again-walk through and search."

"But how long is it going to take you to walk there, Black?" Moody asked practically. "And where are you going to start looking?"

Sirius was quiet for a moment. "Don't know," he said resignedly. "All right. We go back and tell Dumbledore what we've found. Maybe he'll have some ideas. But if he doesn't, I'm coming back to walk the length and width of Ireland if need be."

"And I don't doubt that you would, Black." Moody looked around the area once more as if to set the sight in his mind. "Same field as before to Apparate from?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

Pointing their broomsticks downward, the two men entered the fog bank, veering apart just as they entered so that they wouldn't collide in the fog. Several minutes after they were surrounded by the gray-white puffiness of the clouds, the clouds themselves began to move, blowing against their faces as they cut through them heading groundward.

Although Sirius couldn't see him, he yelled into the fog. "Hey, Moody, what do you think of this?"

"Reckon it's all moving back out to sea or something-change in the wind pattern, I suppose," Moody shouted back. "Can't see a bloody thing, though, so who knows?"

Sirius thought about Mad-Eye's response. "Yeah, you're probably right." _Just a natural occurrence, _he thought. But something was bothering him about the sudden change in the atmosphere. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was strange. He looked all around him- it seemed like the clouds were all rushing to get to one point in the sky. _Nah,_ he thought. _Better leave the weather to the weatherwizards. I know I'm interested to see what that Beeles fellow knows. But we've got more important things to do._

Shivering involuntarily from the cold, damp air rushing at him, Sirius leaned into his broomstick to speed it up a bit. The faster he could get back to Hogwarts with the information, perhaps the faster they'd have Harry back-and that was something worth rushing for.

It was too bad they never looked back.

# # #

_It's actually quite nice up here-private, anyway,_ Hermione thought sleepily as she sat looking around the barren little loft room with its wooden eaves that led up to a high point in the middle, then sloped quickly down to the floor. _I think I woke up too early this morning,_she thought, yawning.

She grabbed her cloak that she had tossed nearby and rolled it into a ball, laying her head on it as she slumped over and leaned against her rucksack. Looking up, she found herself gazing out of the window.  
_  
Hmmm. The window. The window Ron made. For me. Because he knew that I like to be able to see outside. _She'd thought he made it just to be sweet. And especially for her, because they were becoming closer. Just that she didn't understand why he was acting the way he was, all of a sudden. She couldn't be sure if things were changing or not...

Although she could not see them from where she was now, Hermione could hear the others in the main cottage room below. Harry was talking quietly at the makeshift table with Fred and George, trying to get some straight answers about how Portkeys work. It wasn't going very well, of course, because trying to get straight answers from the twins about anything was _always_something of a chore.

She could tell that Valeria was rummaging around for something near her cot in the corner, the cot that was almost directly below where Hermione was now. Valeria was getting ready to go to the village with Ron-just Ron-because that was the way Ron wanted it-and he'd made that pretty clear. Oh, of course, he'd asked her to go along with him and Valeria at the end, but only as a last resort (again!) and certainly without much sincerity.  
_  
What was that really about, Ron? You said that it was because we needed to stay here and protect Harry, or was it just quite convenient for you, so that you could find out how you and Valeria got along?_

Hermione couldn't hear Ron anywhere below, and she momentarily wondered where he'd gone, until she heard his footsteps crunching across the gravel outside the door and moving over the threshold into the room.

Hermione listened as Valeria walked across the room toward him. "I'm ready to go," she said, still sounding much too cheerful about it.

"Er, okay," Ron answered. "Go on outside, then. I'll be out in a minute."

She heard Valeria step outside and crunch a few steps away.

But Hermione was really listening to Ron. She noted that he'd spoke hesitantly, like he was distracted by something else. There was silence for a moment, when she couldn't tell what he was doing.

"Harry," Ron said.

"What?" Harry answered from the table.

There was no response, but Hermione assumed that Ron must have motioned Harry over, because the next thing she heard was Harry scooting his chair back and walking across the floor. (It sometimes amazed her how well she knew her two best friends, even well enough to tell the difference between their gaits.) The two of them must have been standing directly under the loft ladder now.

"Have you seen Hermione?" Ron asked in a hushed voice.

_Don't you dare say anything, Harry! _she thought.

"Er...no. I don't know where she went. Wasn't she with you?" Harry countered.

"No. Not for a while," Ron said. "Well, if you see her, just tell her..."

There was a long pause, presumably while Ron was thinking of a message.

"Just tell her..."

Hermione held her breath, though she wasn't sure what she was expecting.

"What?" Harry asked, exasperated.

"Just tell her I'll see her later, I suppose," Ron sighed finally. It was quiet again for a moment, then Ron spoke again. "Oh,_ that's_where she is. Harry, mate, you'll never be an invincible chess player."

Without even seeing it, Hermione knew just what had happened. Harry could pull it off for anyone else, but she and Ron could always tell-it was a glance in a millisecond, or a sixth sense between the three of them, but Ron could read them both easily, and she and Harry could usually read each other. Ron's expressions, after all his chess experience, could be a little tougher to read if he decided to make it so, which often gave him the advantage.

Ron's voice shifted then, and she could tell he was speaking directly up towards the loft. "We won't be gone long, Hermione. See you later."

It almost came automatically for her to respond, but she told herself not to. She could tell Ron was waiting. Until he decided to treat her differently, he could just_ keep_waiting.

"Maybe she's asleep," he said, trying to cover for the fact that she didn't answer him. "Like I told her, we won't be long. 'Bye, Harry."

Hermione heard Ron's footsteps then, as they left the room and crunched across the gravel. She heard low voices for a moment, and then footsteps leading away. For a brief moment, she thought of peeking out of the window and watching Valeria and Ron, just to see what they were doing.

But then she realized she didn't have to do that-when she closed her eyes, she could see their image. Valeria and Ron. But it would feel just as badly with-Any Girl and Ron. She was irritated with herself for feeling badly when Ron left her behind to go with anyone young and female.

_Bugger! I'm beginning to sound just like Lavender. Snap out of it! _Hermione told herself. _Okay, let's look at this point by point. I'm sure we can reason it out just like any other problem._

First, has he really done anything? He's just trying to help her-the poor girl. He's trying to keep these dementors from eating at her brain. Think about it, Hermione, what choice does he have but to be with her when he can? The worrisome part is not what he has done, but what he will do- can you trust-

Oh, for the love of... That one's got to be second-well, it

_**should **__be first. There's that trust issue again. Why is it that I'm always wondering if I can trust him not to hurt me? And Valeria-she seemed pretty keen on going with him alone-maybe it's __**her **__I shouldn't trust._

Third, this morning... Mmmm. This morning. This wonderful, delicious morning ...Ron, running out panicked to see if I was okay. I didn't mean to frighten him, but it felt sort of-good -to know he cared that much. Then his kissing me to keep me from getting angrier...playing his stupid little game that he was leaving. Ha ha Ron! Didn't work on me!

Fourth, maybe he wasn't expecting what I did after that and it bothered him...

Hermione thought of what happened next, and felt the hot rush of a blush come to her cheeks. Out of the context of the moment, it was difficult for her to believe what she'd done-grabbing Ron's shirt collar and kissing _him_ like that._But it was...mmm...worth it...No, that couldn't have been the problem, I don't think, because there was nothing wrong with his reaction.._

Fifth, but this one should definitely go first-or under 'Most Memorable'.

_**Where **__did he ever learn to kiss like that? I thought maybe it was just because it was us-because it felt so right-and it felt so amazing, all over. I didn't know just kissing someone could make you feel like-that. But then, it wasn't just someone, either-I was kissing Ron-and I so want everything about him to become a part of me_._..I thought he was really feeling that way, too, from the way he was acting, and..._

Sixth-then he pulled away. He looked at me strangely, in a way he never has before, and it seemed like a good thing, too. But it must not have been, because -he wanted to stop. Maybe he didn't like the way I kissed him back. Maybe he can tell I haven't kissed that many boys. Maybe it didn't feel right to him-perhaps he was trying to tell me something-maybe he just couldn't tell me to my face.

Seventh-So maybe now he wants to see what Valeria's like. I mean, she's older-I'm sure he'd be flattered that someone her age would like him-and she's really pretty, when she isn't being controlled by those weird thoughts. Why would he want

_**me,**__ if he could have __**her?**_

And-eighth-

a tear rolled into her hairline from the corner of her eye-_it hurts to think he might want someone else.  
_  
Hermione realized that her plan to work out the problem methodically just wasn't going to work. The only points that really mattered were the ones that involved how she felt about Ron. And no matter how _she_ felt, if he didn't feel the same-it _didn't_matter.

_Oh, stop being such a baby, Hermione! Sure, he told you that you could trust him, but what did you expect? Maybe that just means you'll always be his good friend-maybe he wants you as his 'backup girlfriend'-the one who's always there-you know, just friends, but 'with benefits'? Like someone to share some of those wonderful kisses with, but only until someone better comes along? Well, he'll have another thing coming about that one-just you wait and see, Ron Weasley!_

Whine to yourself all you want, Hermione -but whatever you do, don't let him have the satisfaction of seeing you cry!

Hermione shivered. A sudden chill came over her as she lay lost in her thoughts and she looked up at the window._ What in the world?..._  
_  
_Wearily pulling herself up until she could see outside, she could scarcely believe her eyes. Large patches of fog were fairly pouring in from the ocean, moving faster than she ever remembered seeing fog move in before. The other strange thing was, it was also mid-afternoon, ordinarily the time that the fog would be burning off instead of moving in. This was certainly a very weird place, weather-wise. Either that, or that Mr. Beeles from the M.M.S. should have checked his weather spells more carefully, since they seemed to have affected the weather here quite drastically.

Yanking a blanket from the small, neatly folded pile of them next to the straw, she wrapped herself in it to ward off the cold, clammy dampness of the air that was now blowing in through the window. She lay back down on her cloak and against her rucksack, wishing it was her four-poster at Hogwarts in a nice, fire-warmed castle where her life was ever so much more...predictable? She smiled a bit at the thought that life as Harry and Ron's friend would ever be predictable. Manageable was the only word she could settle for.  
_  
_Hermione yawned once more. _I know I told them I'd go fishing again, but maybe in a little while. I just need to close my eyes for a moment..._

Her eyes snapped open when she heard the commotion going on below her.

"Here-here-lay her down. I moved that so there's room now."

"What did she do?"

"She's passed out, or what? Valeria. Valeria! Can you hear me?"

Hermione had no idea how long she'd been asleep, but the light coming through the window had changed considerably, even though the now-thick fog did it's best to block any light from entering the room at all.

Trying to awaken herself more, she sat up. It was Ron's voice she heard next. He was panting, as if he'd been exerting himself somehow.

"I don't know -what happened, exactly. We were walking-just past the castle ruin and almost to the road-then she said she was dizzy. I think she was- trying to tell me the dementors were coming-but she never got it out before she collapsed. - Then she was sort of rolling around on the ground-and I tried to get her to sit up, but when I- pulled her up, she grabbed me by the throat," Ron explained.

"She did what?" Harry asked, alarmed.

"Was she trying to choke you, or -?" Fred asked.

"And you hung around to bring her back with you?" George asked in surprise.

"I don't know if she meant to do it," Ron explained, beginning to catch his breath a bit more. "She started to squeeze my throat, but I could still breathe, then she opened her eyes. It was weird-I could see this green flash, very deep in her eyes. The light kind of connected with me, like it-or she-I don't know- recognized who I was. Then she started to tighten her grip on my throat like she wanted to choke me anyway. I pulled her hands off and pushed her away. She fell, and it broke our stare-down, but then she yelled, like someone was hurting her. She grabbed her head, like yesterday; she was screaming again, then she passed out. I had to half-drag her back here."

"Has she been awake since then?" Harry asked with concern in his voice.

"No," Ron answered, rubbing his neck. "She's stayed unconscious -just like yesterday. Which is good, because this time I could feel the dementors."

"Did she say anything that made you think she was trying to get to Harry? Or to you?" George asked.

"No-just a lot of screaming and moaning. I don't have any idea why she was choking me-she never acted like she wanted to hurt me before." Ron sounded confused by it all.

"Maybe you should have left her out there," Fred said. "What are we going to do with her now?"

_Valeria tried to choke him? I knew it! I just knew it! Something horrible's going to happen to Harry or maybe even Ron before we get out of this place! _Hermione stood up, quickly smoothed her clothes, and walked over to the loft ladder to start her descent to the room below. Even if she was still uncertain about why he'd acted the way he did earlier, she was really glad that Ron was back, and back safely. _Maybe I was just tired when I was thinking of all those bad things. I suppose if Valeria wants to choke Ron, it's not likely she'll want to kiss him next._

"Look, she's waking up," she heard George say quietly.

Hermione climbed down the ladder steps, noticing that all four boys were focused on Valeria, who was lying on the sofa. They hadn't even noticed Hermione yet.

Valeria was indeed starting to move around on the sofa and rub her face with her hands to try and come to full consciousness.

"Valeria, are you-all right?" Harry asked, standing towards the back of the group and trying to determine if the dementors still seemed to be with her.

"Yes," she answered groggily. "Yes, I think so."

Hermione was about to walk over and welcome Ron back. She knew she wouldn't walk up and hug him, no matter how much she wanted to, but she'd find some little sign to let him know she was pleased to see him. She started to step away from the ladder.

From the couch, Valeria started to look around frantically. "Where's Ron?"

Ron stepped forward cautiously where she could see him. "Here," he said warily, still standing some distance from her reach.

She looked relieved when she saw his face. "Are you okay? When I was with the Muertos, I felt like something bad was going to happen to you, but I couldn't find you to warn you."

Ron looked at Valeria in disbelief. "You mean you don't remember what happened?"

"No," Valeria said with a worried tone. "I never remember what happens in a real blackout. I told you that. I just know it must be awful." She suddenly looked very afraid of what Ron had seen of her that she couldn't remember.

"You don't remember anything about it?" Ron asked, to which Valeria shook her head. "You don't remember choking me?"

Valeria gasped. "Oh, dear God-I did? Oh, no, no, no!" she cried, shaking her head from side to side, as she wrapped her arms around her head. "Ron, I'm so sorry!" She got a very panicked look on her face. "I told you it was awful! I warned you! That's why everyone stays away from me after I've had a blackout. I know it's ugly, and dangerous, and evil!-" She looked at Ron again. "I'm so sorry!" Tears started to form in her eyes.

Hermione had been listening to the story as she quietly walked up behind everyone else, but she stood towards the back, next to Harry. As soon as Ron was through talking to Valeria, she'd let him know. He was, after all, trying to help the girl resolve some of these horrible problems she had. Hermione knew that that was the kind of thing Ron did-and one of the reasons he was so special to her. That must have been the only reason he wanted Valeria to go to the village with him, and was likely the answer to all of her worries about him that Hermione had considered earlier.

"I can't believe I actually tried to hurt you, Ron," Valeria said, beginning to choke on her words as she began to cry harder. She swung her feet to the floor and stood up next to the youngest Weasley, barely having to look up to see into his eyes due to her own height. "I didn't know what I was doing. You're the only one besides Abuelita who's ever cared what happened to me! I swear I wouldn't try to hurt you!"

Valeria threw her arms around Ron's waist and buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing now.

Ron stood stiffly in front of them all, his arms held out at his sides, a look of panic on his face. It was obvious he hadn't expected Valeria to do this, and that he wasn't sure what to do with her now that she had.

Hermione gasped, and in surprise, Ron turned his head the best he could to find where she was. She could tell from his expression that he hadn't even known she was there behind his brothers and Harry.

What happened on that walk to make Valeria feel so comfortable with Ron that she'd do that with him in front of everyone? Of course, Ron wouldn't dare return the hug once he knew I was there-but did he do something, anything, out there, before the dementors came to Valeria?

Momentarily losing her balance and falling against Harry at the sight of Valeria holding Ron, Hermione steadied herself and pulled herself together enough to leave the room at a brisk walk. Once she was out of the door and out of earshot, she ran with all the remaining energy she had.

Hermione just wanted to flee. She wanted to run from the image of Valeria and Ron, now burned into her mind, as if escaping it could make it not so. But she was far too intelligent to actually fool herself.

Still jogging, she spied the little clearing next to the creek. Yes, she was supposed to go fishing this afternoon. But, at this moment, she didn't care if she, or anyone, for that matter, ever ate anything else again. The inside of her just ached too much.

Sitting on one of the large, flat white rocks she had fished from this morning with Ron, she realized that perhaps this _wasn't_ where she should have run to, after all. Through the now-murky fog, she tried to ignore the tree where she and Ron had-but that hurt too much to think about. _Stupid Ron! I hate him! I hate him! He just makes things so darned -complicated! How can what he does matter so much to me?_

Hearing footsteps approaching at a jog from the direction of the cottage, Hermione couldn't decide whether to hide or run again. But when she looked up and saw that it was Harry, instead of Ron or another Weasley, she decided to stay where she was.

Harry either knew not to say anything, or didn't know what to say-but either one suited Hermione just fine. He stopped running a few paces away, then walked up and sat down next to her on the rock, staring straight ahead as she was. She knew he had come to see if she was okay-he didn't have to tell her that. And she knew he'd sit there with her until he was certain she'd be all right on her own.

Hermione suddenly felt very weary of this whole mess-stuck here in Ireland, having to work to find food, not getting enough rest, wondering if something evil was going to pop up at any moment and do serious harm to any or all of them, working it out with Ron, or not.

How she _wanted_to hate Ron! She had managed it only once, and only for a little while, in spite of all the times they had fought since they'd known one another. That time in first year, when she barely knew him, and all he wanted to do was make fun of her-she had managed to hate him then.

But after the troll incident, there'd been that time in the hallway, when he'd given her that wondrous Ron smile, and teasingly told her that insulting each other was what friends were for. After that, it had all been over for her. True, they'd been friends first and always since then-but now, there was so much more to deal with.

_I'll never be able to hate Ron completely, no matter what he does,_ Hermione thought resignedly. _No matter how much it hurts, and how much I might want to sometimes._

She looked over at Harry next to her and managed to give him a tiny smile to let him know she was okay. He returned the smile and gave a small sigh of relief. _The same goes for Harry. What would I do without the two of them?_

Sighing as well, Hermione let herself lean over and rest her head against Harry's shoulder as he sat with arms encircled on his bent knees. At least she wasn't alone.

The two of them sat that way for a time, just listening to the gurgling of the water in the stream, staring straight ahead through the fog. Hermione knew that Harry wasn't going to pretend he was a genius at making her feel better. In fact, she thought, he probably didn't even want to get involved. But they were both aware that they had been hurt by Ron in the past, and it was that which held them together now.

Very little had been settled in her mind as far as Ron was concerned. The whole situation was so confusing-Valeria tries to choke Ron, then ends up hugging him. Hermione thought she should step back to let Ron help Valeria, and then Valeria might try to hurt him again. If Valeria _didn't_try to hurt him, maybe she'd want to get together with him-and maybe Valeria would be convincing enough to undo all the wonderful things that she and Ron had worked so hard to make happen between the two of them. Hermione wasn't sure whether to be angry with Ron, or feel sorry for him. Maybe the Portkey would work tonight and this would all be over. She could only hope.

Finally Hermione lifted her head from Harry's shoulder and shook out her hair.

"All right, Hermione?" Harry asked cautiously.

"All right, Harry," she said, trying to smile confidently at him. Hermione had always thought it would be nice to have a brother, and if she did, she'd want him to be exactly like Harry. Well, she'd skip the part about his being The Boy Who Lived, as well as being the hope of the wizarding world. But the rest was- just perfect.

Looking above her, Hermione couldn't believe it was happening again. "Harry-isn't this the weirdest place with the fog? It only just poured in a couple of hours ago, and now it's thinning again for the sun to come through. The weather is just as strange as all the rest of what's going on around here."

Harry peered around him, squinting up into the bright haze in the sky above them. "Hmm. Yeah, you're right. Weird."

"Oh, well. The sun feels nice, anyway," Hermione said, feeling it warm her through her clothes.

"Yeah-takes all the clammy coldness away. You know, I hear you're one fine fisherman," Harry said. "Or is that fisherwoman? Fisherwitch? Anyway, what do you say to teaching me how to fish so we can catch some dinner?"

"Love to," Hermione answered, almost cheerfully, hoping that Harry couldn't tell she had to work at it. "But you'll have to go up behind the cottage and get the poles and things. I'm-not ready to go up there yet."

Harry started to scramble to his feet on the rock. "Done. Be right back."

Though Hermione wasn't sure when she'd ever be really ready to go back to the cottage and face Ron, she knew it simply had to be done. So it was several hours and a dozen or more trout later, that she and Harry made the short, climbing walk back up to the cottage.

Hermione scanned the room to see that Ron was talking to Valeria as she sat on the sofa. Ron sat in a chair facing the older girl and Hermione could overhear from their conversation the words "good thoughts" and "concentrate". Ron certainly didn't seem to be afraid of Valeria, or worried. Hermione immediately thought she didn't want to know why Valeria was smiling.

Ron did look up quickly with a strange expression as he saw Harry and Hermione walking in, but he turned back around to finish his conversation with Valeria.

_This may be the greatest test of your Gryffindor bravery that you've ever had to face, Hermione. Don't let them see how sad you are-show them you're tough!  
_  
The first Weasley she had to speak to inside the cottage was, luckily, not Ron, but one of the twins. George stood to greet them from the table where he'd been sitting with Fred.

"Ahhhh. More fish for dinner. Oh, and let me guess-" George said, affecting a thick French accent. "To accompany the flavorful, hearth-baked brook trout, some lovely fire-roasted potatoes, with tangy crabgrass garnish."

"Well, it won't matter what we have to eat unless we go find some more firewood," Valeria stated from the sofa. She'd apparently stopped listening to Ron to hear George's menu-with-a-flourish. "Unless you don't mind eating it all raw."

"Raw?" Ron repeated, grimacing.

Hermione was tempted to smile at the face Ron made, but somehow it didn't seem funny right now. _If I'm not mistaken, it looks like he thinks nothing happened with us. Why do I feel like it would be just like Ron not to even 'get it'...?_

"Blimey, Harry, you caught all those fish?" Ron asked, looking teasingly at Hermione. "Or did you let Hermione catch one or two?"

The joke fell flat with both Harry and Hermione. They both blinked at him, sullen looks on their faces. Apparently, neither of them felt like joking around with him yet.

Ron's smile faded as he continued to look at the two of them. A confused expression crossed his face, then he focused a rather serious, searching gaze on Hermione.

"Firewood, you said?" Harry repeated, trying to change the subject and pull away from the grim look he was caught up in between Ron and Hermione. "Why do we need firewood? Hermione doesn't need fire-" Harry had to stop himself from finishing.

Hermione, who was only half-listening, still managed to feel it coming. She turned away from Ron and moved in to cover the mistake Harry'd almost made. "Yes, I'm very good at getting the fire started _once we have firewood. _How _else_would you expect me to do it?" She looked over at Harry, rolling her eyes towards Valeria, who couldn't see her expression. Harry looked back at Hermione a bit sheepishly.

"Boys..." Valeria said, shaking her head in disgust. "Hermeeohnay _is_ very good at fire-starting, but even_ she_can't do magic."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, then seemed to realize there was nothing she could say that wouldn't dig her friends in deeper. Frowning, she closed her mouth again purposely and stood silently, looking agitated. _No matter how wonderfully it started out, this is just __**not **__going to be my day. Please, just get me through it and back to Hogwarts where I can have some control over my life, thank you._

The twins noticed Hermione's response and had to cover their mouths to hide the sniggers. Ron even had to turn away, coughing, so as not to give himself away.

Harry seemed to have better control of himself. "Right, then. Firewood it is. I'll start by the creek."

Fred and George started to head out the door as well, but Ron stopped them. "If you two really think you can come up with that-information-about getting back, why don't you keep working? We can handle the firewood."

Hermione knew that the whole firewood issue was pretty much unnecessary, but if they were going to maintain the facade for Valeria, they'd have to go along with the Muggle way. At least it kept them warm through the night, without Hermione having to get up several times to refresh the spell. With any luck using the Portkey, they wouldn't need it at all.

"Oh, and I was looking forward to rooting around in the forest, too," Fred said dejectedly.

"If you two don't figure out how to get past that little problem you're working on, you'll be the first ones we send out to root around in the forest," Ron noted. "And to dig up more potatoes, and to learn to fish _and_hunt, and-"

"Yeah, yeah, we get the picture. But no pressure on us, eh, George?" Fred asked.

"Ah, the curse of the brilliant mind," George said dramatically. "The rest of the world is just never satisfied."


	17. A Walk in the Woods

**~ Chapter 17 ~  
A Walk in the Woods**

Ron watched to see which direction Valeria went outside, making sure she didn't follow Harry.

_Valeria seems perfectly fine, until those blasted dementors take over her mind. I can see why she's scared to death now, of the dementors and of hurting someone. I've got to keep talking to her about good thoughts and concentrating-she's got to train herself to just try and keep the dementors away. I reckon I should be more afraid of her-of what she could do to hurt Harry, or one of the others, or me. But what good would that do? Heaven knows-she's afraid enough for all of us. I think if we can all keep our eye on her-__**all the time-**__-she'll be okay. We just have to make sure we do something when those dementors move in-and fast._

I wish I could be the one to get us out of here, since they're all here because of me. The Portkey hasn't worked, going to the village didn't work since we never made it there, trying to connect with Ginny didn't go well...

Ron thought a moment about how he had tried to connect with Ginny. He was sure she was worried-his whole family always pulled together to worry even more once they were doing it together-any time that there was a family crisis. Ron was sure that their disappearance had reached crisis proportion at Hogwarts by now-he could only imagine how it must be for Dumbledore just with dealing with his mum, never mind anyone else.

But for some reason, the connection with Ginny had been too weak to hold. Ron thought he had found her, but he couldn't get any messages across. Connecting with Ginny had always been a bit different than when he was connecting with Hermione or Valeria- they weren't as strong, in some way. The feelings between he and Ginny, though quite strong as a sibling bond, didn't hold as much raw emotion as the bond between he and Hermione. He was still trying to learn exactly what this telempathy thing was all about-raw emotion did have something to do with the strength of the connection-Valeria's fears had been a good example of that.

It also seemed like there was something blocking the way between Ron's and his sister's mind that hadn't been there before. Maybe she was just too far away, though that hadn't been any problem with Valeria. It was like a thick sheet of cloth, or (he shuddered at this) a thick sheet of spider webbing hung in the path of the connection, keeping his mind from its destination. Unfortunately, Ron wasn't adept enough with his telempathy to even know how to begin taking an alternate route.

_Okay-let's see-Valeria's where?_He did a quick visual scan of the area.

Once he was convinced that Valeria and Harry were far enough apart that Harry was safe for the moment, Ron started to walk toward Hermione. _Finally, maybe I can find out what in blazes is going on with __**her.**__..  
_  
"Are you-?" was all Ron got out before Hermione spun on her heel right in front of him and wordlessly walked away. "Hermione!" he called after her, watching her back until she was about halfway toward the start of the trail.

_What in bloody hell is her problem? What did I do this time...?_

Maybe I pushed it too far this morning-maybe she didn't want me to kiss her like that-maybe she could tell that it was -doing that to me...but I thought she felt it too... ergh...girls!

Ron sighed to himself and stomped off to collect another armful of wood.

Harry, Valeria, Ron and Hermione worked silently for a short time, coming and going, adding to the woodpile with a varied combination of dry, broken branches and logs.

_Maybe if I can get her to look at me, if I can plan to be at the woodpile at the same time she is, maybe she'll give me an idea what I can do to fix it-again-just one more chance to try and straighten it all out..._ _Blimey, this sounds too familiar. Life with Hermione. Oi._

Hermione was obviously trying hard to ignore him, but Ron kept throwing himself in her way on purpose, so she began to stare back at him, sneering silently.

_Yeah, Weasley, but just look at her. Look at how amazing she is, even when she's making that face. And remember how great everything was this morning, and how wonderful it felt to be that close to her! Let's see you even __**think **__about giving all that up!  
_  
Ron stopped his work for a moment, just to stare at Hermione as she walked away to get another armful of firewood, and thought. _No, Hermione, we've worked too hard for this, and what we have is far too good for you to act like this over something stupid-whatever the hell it is. I'm not gonna give up on you now-you're stuck with me-whatever it takes to make you see it.  
_  
Though Valeria didn't seem to notice too much, Harry had far too much experience with Ron/Hermione fights _not_to notice. Ron could tell his friend was just trying to stay out of their way, hoping it would get settled soon.

After watching Hermione leave again, Ron checked on Harry and Valeria, finding them some distance apart at the east end of the field. He felt the last bit of wood he'd added to the pile slide over on his foot. Kneeling down, he tried to straighten it somewhat, so that the pile didn't keep shifting its way out in front of the cottage door. He remained so focused on his work that he didn't hear Hermione walk up quietly behind him.

Hermione pulled her wand from her pocket and pointed it at the armful of medium-sized branches she was holding. Whispering _"Wingardium Leviosa!" _she watched as the wood pieces lined themselves up in a row in the air next to her. She checked Ron's position one more time, then muttered a charm that sent the firewood zinging past Ron's ear, one piece close enough to blow his hair forward as he jumped back in surprise.

"Damn it, Hermione! That's not funny! I've already been choked today-now you're trying to give me a concussion?" All of Ron's prior thoughts about settling the Hermione problem disappeared in a wave of anger.

Hermione shrugged, seeming to be trying very hard not to smile. "If I'd have meant to hit you-I would have." She turned to go, then thought of something. "Pity you don't remember the spell to stack all this nicely without groveling in the dirt. I do."

"Oh, bloody well good for you! Why don't you and your spell go pile up a nice, big stack of firewood somewhere and-_sit on it!" _Ron said loudly.

"Hmph!" was all Hermione said, turning to walk away. After ten paces or so, she turned swiftly around again, pointed her wand at the pile and said loudly, _"Settlemente!" _

Ron moved back swiftly again, just in time for all the wood pieces to stand themselves on end, arrange themselves according to length and thickness, and then lie down perfectly in a neat stack directly in front of him.

"By the heavens, it feels wonderful to do magic again!" Hermione said, quite satisfied with her work and apparently, herself.

_All right, we're going to have this little power play out right here and now, Miss Granger! _Ron started to walk in her direction in a very determined way. She stubbornly wheeled away from him once more.

"Hermione," he said, without the anger in his voice that she seemed to be steeling herself for. "Hermione!"

She turned to face him slowly and uncertainly.

"Hermione-where are they?" Ron's voice echoed panic now, and he didn't even look down at her as she turned, but stared out over the area they had all been collecting firewood in.

Thinking about it, neither Harry nor Valeria had returned for a little while, but he'd been paying attention to Hermione- not to where the other two might have gone.

With the realization that Harry's safety was far beyond the importance of what at this moment seemed like a silly fight, they looked into each other's eyes. They could read in one another the silent agreement that no matter what else happened, the two of them would always be bound by at least one very serious commitment: their love for Harry, and their pledges to do anything humanly or magically possible to keep him safe.

"He was right over there," Hermione offered, pointing to where she'd last seen him in the field.

Ron ran swiftly across the field of grass to where he'd last seen Valeria at the edge of the woods. He'd watched her earlier, wandering in and out of the tree line, searching for wood, and was hoping she had just disappeared into the forest for a minute.

"Valeria!" he yelled as he approached the point where he thought she might be. "Valeria!" He could see back into the forest somewhat since the sun was still fairly high in the sky. But he saw no sign of her. Backtracking over the same area he'd just covered, he thought perhaps she had been hidden by one of the wide trunks of the tall cedars, but he had no luck finding her there, either.

Ron ran back out into the full sunlight at the edge of the field. He watched Hermione as she turned this way and that from where she'd last seen Harry, calling his name. She was visually scanning the whole meadow just like Ron was, but even from this far away, he could tell the expression on her face was grim.

_Don't panic, Weasley. Keep your wits about you. Yes, this valley is enormous, but they can't have Apparated away. Harry doesn't know how and Valeria's a Muggle. That means they must still be around here-somewhere._

Ron jogged out to the center of the field where Hermione was. It occurred to him as he walked up to her that the two of them must look very small and insignificant compared to the tall peaks around them, and the castle ruin nearby. He pushed the thought from his mind, since there was no way it could help._ Think positive-maybe Harry and Valeria aren't even together.  
_  
"I haven't seen a sign of them anywhere. Have you?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"No. Nothing," Ron replied. "Stay here and keep watching-for anything. I'm going back to the cottage to get Fred and George. We'll send them down the south side of the valley. You and I'll take the north, all right?"

Hermione nodded in agreement, her head down.

"We'll find them, Hermione," Ron said encouragingly before he ran off towards the cottage.

Fred and George had already sensed that something was wrong, since they hadn't heard anyone outside for some time. They were standing in front of the cottage by the time Ron arrived to tell them of Harry and Valeria's disappearance. The twins checked to be sure they had their wands, then took off at a brisk jog towards the south edge of the valley.

"See anything while I was gone?" Ron asked Hermione as he ran back to her.

"Nothing having to do with Harry or Valeria. Just some birds-ravens, I think-flying around up there near the castle," Hermione told him, pointing to the eastern sky.

"Okay-well, let's start at the edge of the woods. Maybe they're just walking far enough into the trees that we can't see them. You _do_ have your wand, don't you?" Ron asked, then realized she'd been on the verge of pelting him with firewood only minutes earlier. _We won't deal with that now-too much at stake. But, later... _"Oh. Yeah. Never mind- you have it."

Ron turned and set off immediately. Hermione worked to keep up with his long strides, but as always, had trouble doing so. Although she was trying to watch carefully for movement along the edge of the woods, she also appeared to be thinking of something else.

Just as the two of them were about to enter the woods, Hermione stopped walking.

"Ron?" she said in a strange tone from a few strides behind him.

"No, we can't stop. Come on, Hermione," Ron replied, concentrating on all the light and shadow he could see as he stared into the forest.

"No, it's not that. Maybe we're going about this all wrong," Hermione said.

"What? How?" Ron asked, finally stopping and facing her.

"We're not using _you," _she pointed out.

"Er, yes, we are. I'm looking for them right now," Ron said, as if it were quite obvious.

"No, not your body-your mind. If Harry or Valeria is in trouble, or one is worried about the other, shouldn't you be able to find them telempathically?"

Ron paused and narrowed his eyes in thought. "You know, you might have something. I didn't think of that! And they're close by, so it shouldn't be affected like it was with Ginny. If one of them is afraid or worried- maybe I _can_find my way there. I've found both of them before. You're brilliant, Hermione!" Ron said, grabbing her by the shoulders in the excitement.

He was surprised to feel her stiffen under his touch, much like she used to, so he awkwardly let go. 

Hermione looked down, refusing to meet his eyes. "Maybe sometimes," she mumbled half-heartedly in acknowledgement.

"Okay-I've never done it this way before-so cross your fingers. Let's see-it would probably be easier to find Valeria," Ron said, noticing that Hermione frowned at his choice, "because I've had to find her most often before-over longer distances, too."

"Just- do whatever you need to," Hermione told him stiffly.

Ron furrowed his brow in confusion over her attitude, but continued with the problem at hand. "Here-let me sit-there's a place by that tree over there. You know, now that I think about it, I have done this out in the open before," he said, heading toward the tree.

"When?" Hermione asked irritably, following along.

"A couple of days ago. Portkey site. You." Ron watched her closely for a moment, wondering if she remembered what he'd told her then.

She remembered. Her eyes started to glisten and she looked down. She bravely fought a sad look. "That seems like it happened a long time ago."

Ron knew he would be unable to concentrate if he pursued the discussion with her now. So he closed his eyes as he leaned back on the tree, trying to relax and carefully wind his way through all of the space he had to cover to get to Valeria's mind.

*_Valeria?_* he tried, hoping he was in the right place.

*_No! Go away!_* Yes, it was Valeria's mind, but there was certainly no welcome mat out.

*_Valeria, where are you?_*

*_It's too late, Ron! Just go away!*_

Ron could hear moaning through the connection. And was that...? He tried to see or sense if Valeria was alone in her mind. No, no she wasn't. She _definitely_wasn't. How many of them were there? Seven? Eight?

*_Valeria-fight them! Good thoughts-remember! Concentrate! I know they're already there-but fight!*_Ron urged. A strong sense of foreboding swept over him, worse than he'd ever felt before in the connection.

_*Good thoughts...*_Valeria thought weakly. Then she began to wail, *_No, no, no, no...*_

The dementors had sensed Ron's interference and were trying to move in and separate Valeria from him-they'd done it before. Ron thought it felt like trying to hang from a slippery pole, when someone kept pouring oil on it until your fingertips just couldn't grip anymore. He could feel the darkness and despair of the dementors as he moved nearer to them in Valeria's mind to help her. He shivered.

Ron heard the moaning again, but it wasn't Valeria.

_*Valeria. Think. Where's Harry? Do you know where Harry is?*_Ron demanded.

_*Harry. No good thoughts for Harry...*_Valeria sounded drugged, though Ron had heard her that way before- the night of the suicide attempt. He assumed it was something the dementors did to her when they wished to keep her under their absolute control.

_*No, Valeria! __**Where's**__ Harry?*_

_*Let me rest...so tired...too heavy to get to the castle...* _

The moaning came up in volume as if with great effort, and Ron could just make out one slurred word from a deeper voice, "...castle..."

Ron could tell Valeria was weakening, giving in to the evil. _*Valeria-good thoughts-your grandmother-the ship-you liked being on the ship-where are you now?*_

But it was too late. The connection had ended.

Ron shook his head to clear it and took a deep breath. Hermione was staring at him intently, agonizing over the wait to find out what was going on. He didn't have to tell her it was serious-the gravity of what was happening was written all over his face.

"Someone was moaning- a deeper voice than Valeria's- they both said something about the castle. I don't know if it was Harry, but gods, let's hope not. Come on!" he said. Ron stood up and started off at a dead run, heading farther up onto the forested hillside and bearing east toward the castle ruin.

After the first quarter mile, Hermione had fallen behind. "Go on ahead, Ron! I'll catch up!" She appeared surprised when Ron ran back to her.

"I need you. If that's Harry up there, he needs you. Keep _running!"_He grabbed her hand and started yanking her up the hill behind him.

Ron and Hermione scrambled up the steep incline, the castle ruin coming nearer and nearer in their view. Aside from attempting to get there as fast as they could, they prayed that 'castle' was what Valeria and the voice had really meant. Neither of them dared think what they might find once they got there.

"Ron! Look! What's that?" Hermione panted, pointing at a tiny circle of blue half-buried in a clump of leaves.

Ron, still pulling Hermione along with him, ran over to the pile. Releasing her hand, he bent to retrieve a small blue rubber band that both of them had seen Valeria wear in her hair.

"We're going the right way. Come on!"

Several hundred feet beyond where they'd stopped, they noticed as they ran that a trench had been gouged out of the mulchy forest floor. Something, or someone, was being dragged alongside of someone else. It hadn't been long since they'd been by, either, because tiny bugs were still skittering away from the freshly turned soil.

"Oh, Ron. You don't think that's-?" Hermione didn't seem able to put the thought into words.

Ron couldn't face it, either. " 'Course not. We've got to keep going!"

Running out of the trees into a small clearing on the hill, Ron suddenly stopped and crouched, pulling Hermione down with him into the tall grass. "Look-there she is!" he said in a hushed voice, ducking his head in case someone was watching (although he doubted that anyone really looking would have missed his fire-red hair).

At the other side of the clearing, on her way into the dark woods, was Valeria, holding another person around the waist and half-dragging them along. Sure enough-their hearts sank to see that the one with her was Harry.

"What's she done to him?" Hermione asked angrily. "And why are we stopping?"

"Because we don't know who's with her, or where they might be. It's like chess, Hermione. You'd be foolish to make a move and charge in without knowing who or how many there were and what their positions were. In this case, a bad move might mean we all end up dead."

"But what about Harry?" Hermione demanded, looking as if she was wondering if Ron had lost his nerve.

"We're going after him, don't worry. Just let them get into the cover of the woods for a bit. She's not moving that fast-because it looks like she's having to drag him some. Once they've been in the trees a couple of minutes, I'll try to get near them and see what we're dealing with. You follow behind them, but not too closely-the trees are going to be our cover, too. I'll come tell you what we'll do next once I've figured out what we're up against."

Hermione processed the plan momentarily, then nodded her head.

The five-minute wait seemed like an hour to the two friends as they crouched in the tall grass.

"Wands out?" Ron whispered. Hermione nodded again, nervously, and held hers up for him to see. He paused to look into her eyes a moment and give her a tiny, encouraging smile. "Let's go then. See you soon." With that, Ron sprinted off toward the point where Valeria and Harry had entered the forest.

Slowing for his eyes to adjust to the dark forest from the bright sunlight, Ron found that he heard them before he could see them. Valeria and Harry were some thirty feet away, the tall girl recklessly crashing through the saplings and small brush as she struggled to drag Harry with her. It looked as though Harry was moving a bit, much to Ron's relief, and although Valeria was talking out loud to herself, he thought he could hear Harry mumbling and moaning, as well. Their progress was slow-he'd have plenty of time to see if they were alone and get back to Hermione-long before Harry and Valeria even came near the castle.

Creeping up through the trees, hiding behind shrubs and saplings when he could, Ron predicted where Valeria's path would take them, then positioned himself behind the trunk of a large cedar. From there, he could almost watch them walking straight towards him, so he could see if there was anyone, or anything, moving along in the forest with them.

With some relief, he watched for several minutes and saw nothing except Harry and Valeria-no black-robed figures, no accompanying wizards or ghosts. He still heard Valeria talking to herself, or possibly to the dementors in her mind-but he saw no signs of anything outside.

Taking a few minutes to concentrate on Harry, Ron was pleased that his friend looked to be in fairly good condition. He suddenly had a thought as to what might have happened to Harry. If Harry was caught unawares by dementors, the results were always the same-he'd faint from the dementor sickness-it always affected Harry the worst. His famous stag Patronus (famous to Ron and Hermione, anyway) could only help him if Harry had a few moments to put everything in motion, including setting his wand and reciting the spell. If the dementors, disguised in Valeria as they inhabited her mind and her eyes, had somehow managed to sneak up on Harry... no wonder he was almost completely incapacitated. But at least he was alive...so far.

Ron could also see from his vantage point, that Hermione had done just as he'd told her, following Harry and Valeria, but hanging back far enough that she could move through the forest undetected. Ron waited until Valeria and Harry passed him, then ran back to Hermione and crouched down with her.

"It looks like it's just the two of them. I haven't seen anyone, or anything else, unless they're disguised in some way. I think we're safe to try and take them on ourselves. You game?" Ron asked.

"I suppose. Magic, right?" Hermione asked.

"Right," Ron replied. "I'd say we're past having to worry about that now. I'll take care of distracting Valeria-I already got away from her once today. You go get Harry and just get him somewhere away from her. You know, I think he's just groggy from the dementors being so close. Even if they're only in Valeria's mind, I think they can affect him the way they usually do, or almost the same-either that, or they've got him under some spell until the real dementors can get to him."

"What do we do with Valeria once we've got Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not sure. If I can get her to fight off the dementors once she's not focused on what they're making her do to Harry, maybe she'll be okay. I reckon we'll just have to see how it goes," Ron said hopefully. "Damn-if only we had some chocolate!"

Hermione looked at Ron strangely. "I think this might be a little more complicated than what chocolate can take care of."

"Well, if nothing else, at least I could eat it, so my stomach wouldn't give me away when I try to sneak up on people," Ron said, quite seriously.

Hermione smiled a little, and shook her head.

"You ready?" Ron asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Hermione replied, though she sounded uncertain.

Trying to crunch through the leaves as little as possible, Ron and Hermione crept through the forest, several paces apart, but keeping equal distance from Valeria and Harry. It was easy to gain on them, because Valeria was moving at a snail's pace, due to both her own exhaustion, and to carrying most of Harry's weight with her. Even so, it was obvious from the direction that she was traveling that another twenty minutes' walk would have taken them to the castle ruin. But Ron decided there was no time to speculate on what they would find there-at least for now.

Ron moved into a position ahead of Valeria and Harry, so that he could hold Valeria at bay until Hermione had Harry safely moved away from her. He signaled to Hermione to stay where she was, hidden behind some brush at the side of the path Harry and Valeria had taken.

Pushing aside several small saplings to jump quickly into Valeria's path, Ron pointed his wand. He was still some fifteen feet from her, and tried not to speak too harshly, hoping that Valeria's sense of reason might yet be able to overcome the dementors' power over her. "Stay right there, Valeria. You know you don't want to hurt Harry. You don't want to hurt anybody-you told me so yourself."

Valeria, shocked by the sound of a voice aside from hers and Harry's, looked up in panic. The sight of Ron pointing some stick at her should not have alarmed her much, but it seemed like something inside of her made her understand that what Ron had was a weapon. Breathing hard, she pulled Harry around in front of her, his body facing toward hers. As difficult as it was for her to swing his almost-dead-weight, she managed to lean his head into the crook of her arm and tilt his face upward toward hers. Looking Ron dead in the eye, she opened her mouth wide and leaned over, prepared to kiss Harry if Ron made a move.

It happened so fast that Ron was confused by her action, until he realized Harry wouldn't be receiving Valeria's kiss-it would be the dementors'-why else would she act that way? He wondered if the Stunning Spell would take effect before Valeria managed to get her mouth over Harry's. But what if it didn't? The Kiss would take only a second.

Harry clawed at Valeria's arm, or tried to, with all the effort he could muster from his semi-conscious state. He couldn't change his position completely, but his squirming made her struggle to hold him up-it was enough to distract her.

At the same time, Ron saw Hermione come up silently from behind Valeria. Ron and Hermione's eyes met in a look that seemed to tell the young witch everything she needed to know. Hermione took a stance, pointed her wand, and recited loudly, _"Petrificus Totalus!"_

Valeria's expression changed immediately from one of sheer defiance to one of extreme fear. Her body stiffened in position and she fell like a statue, taking Harry with her to the forest floor.

Ron ran to his best friend, lifting Valeria off of Harry and laying her petrified body carefully aside for the moment.

Valeria's eyes darting about rapidly, she looked terrified of what had happened. As badly as Ron felt about having Hermione perform the spell on her, he also knew they had no other choice. When she'd locked stares with Ron, prepared to give Harry the Kiss, he'd been able to see the flash of green in the back of her eyes, even at the distance from where he'd been standing. He noticed the light in her eyes had dimmed considerably since then, but it still wasn't safe to set her free.

"Harry!" Ron said cheerfully to his best friend, kneeling and putting his arm around him to pull him away from where he'd fallen. Helping Harry to sit up and lean back against one of the cedars nearby, Ron looked at his friend with a twinkle in his eye. "Haven't I told you time and again not to go walking with strange girls in the woods? Especially those who'd like to kiss you? You're just too irresistible for your own good, I reckon-though I _myself _don't see the attraction."

Hermione had rushed up to see Harry as well, and grimaced at Ron. "I'm sure he can't hear you yet, Ron."

But Harry appeared to be coming around quite quickly, now that he was out from under the influence of the dementors. His voice still low and shaky, he spit out, "Yes, I can. Sod off, Weasley, you great prat!"

"Hey! Like music to my ears!" Ron chuckled. "You can tell me to sod off any old time you manage to fend off dementors and come out alive. Welcome back to the world, Harry!"

Hermione smiled at her recovering friend warmly. "Yes, welcome back, Harry."

Harry pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes underneath, trying to come to his senses. He replaced the spectacles, then looked around. "Ergh...how'd I get _here?"  
_  
"Erm-as I was saying-you went on a little walk with Valeria. But I don't think you realized who invited themselves to go along," Ron explained.

"Dementors? Feels like dementors...I get this same headache with dementors..." Harry complained. Momentarily forgetting the rest of their predicament, he asked, "Have any chocolate?"

Ron noticed that Hermione looked at him before she spoke. "No, I'm afraid we didn't bring any, Harry. Besides, Ron would have eaten it all before now, even if we had."

"Yeah, but we'll get you some nice fish and potatoes when we get back. I'm sure it'll have the same effect," Ron assured him in jest. He stood then, the unpleasantness of the task before him reflected on his face. "I'd better go see about her," Ron told Hermione, indicating Valeria as she still lay as if frozen a few feet away.

"Surely you're not going to do the counterspell?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"I don't know yet. Once the dementors have gone..." Ron began.

"Ron, you can't! What if she attacks us again? You trusted her before-heaven knows why- and look what almost happened to Harry!" Hermione said loudly.

"But once the dementors are gone, she's just-Valeria. She won't attack us when the dementors aren't there. We've been with her almost two days now-"

"And she's tried to hurt both you and Harry in that time!" Hermione interrupted. "Sure, she was all right for a while, but in the last eight hours-"

"I know, I know. You're right about that-we'll have to guard her all the time now. I'm sure that when she attacked me, it was just the dementors making her look for Harry. They found me instead, by accident, and told her to get me out of the way. But she couldn't do it-I saw it in her eyes, even with the dementors there," Ron said, trying to sound convincing.

"So then, as soon as she manages to get Harry alone, she's dragging him away to turn him over to the dementors, who _now know_he's still here in Ireland..." Hermione continued, ranting.

"I know-I didn't want them to find out, either-because now we've really got to work harder at getting Harry out of here. We came because of me-" Ron said, trying to remain calm since he could tell Hermione was so upset.

"It's _her_fault that we almost lost Harry!" Hermione argued.

"But it's not _her_-it's the dementors, when they take over her mind!" Ron defended.

"And you're going to stop that _how?_ You're going to know when that's about to happen and just hold them off-in _her _head? I think you've got a pretty good opinion of your own _special_ability here," Hermione said rather nastily. She looked as if she regretted saying it once it had slipped out.

Ron was startled and hurt at the directness of Hermione's comment. "What would you know about it, Hermione?" he said quietly. "You've only just seen the surface of what it can do. I don't even know it all. I could show you more, but-" Ron looked down, refusing to complete that thought.

Hermione remained silent, looking at the ground.

After a moment, Ron spoke calmly and sincerely. "Look-I don't know how a Muggle girl got mixed up with dementors or why she came to_ me_ telempathically. I don't know why the dementors didn't come for two days, now they have, and she's tried twice to do us in. There's a lot I _don't_ know-but I _do_ know I promised to help her, and that maybe I can keep her from killing herself because she's terrified of something that's not even from her world. The dementors changed her _whole life,_ Hermione. And she trusts me-I'll be damned if I'm going to leave her petrified out here in the woods. Now that we know what we're dealing with-_we've_ always got magic to overcome her if we need to. What's _she_got to defend herself?"

It was apparent that Hermione didn't have a ready answer for that. She paused for a moment, then spoke, still rather irritated. "I don't know. But you'd better find a way to keep Harry safer than this if you're thinking of letting her go back with us."

"Do you have any suggestions?" Ron asked.

Hermione didn't answer, just looked over at Harry. "How are you feeling, Harry? Think you can walk yet? We'd probably better get you out of here as soon as we can-I'm not sure why Valeria was taking you to the castle ruin, but I don't want to find out, either."

Harry started to push himself up from the ground. It took him two or three tries to get to his feet, then his knees were a bit wobbly, but after a few steps with Hermione's help, he seemed fairly steady. "Okay. I suppose I'm ready to walk down. Would have gone faster with chocolate."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry in exasperation, then turned to her other friend, but her tone of voice with Ron was still all business. "All right then, Ron. We'll wait for you at the edge of the meadow at the bottom."

"Would you mind sending up a spark when you get there? I told Fred and George to keep checking the north side-that we'd send up a green spark if everything was okay. They'll try and meet us there if they see it," Ron requested quite formally.

"That's fine," Hermione answered. "I don't mind doing that for _them_." She turned then, and started off briskly down the hill, obviously expecting Harry to follow.

"Er...see you at the bottom, I reckon," Harry told Ron, seeming to feel strange about leaving him there alone with a petrified Valeria.

Ron watched his two best friends silently for a moment, then turned to Valeria. He'd tried to move her into a soft patch of dried leaves, but lying stiff on the forest floor couldn't have been comfortable. He walked over to her and kneeled down at her side.

"Hi," he started gently.

Valeria's long hair had fallen in her face in the earlier struggle, and she'd had no way to move it, so Ron awkwardly pushed it away. He was almost sorry that he did. Now he could see Valeria's eyes darting about wildly, seemingly more terrified of being petrified than she had been of the dementors. Tears were streaming down the sides of her face, and must have been for some time, because there were wet patches in the hair near her temples.

Ron wasn't sure where to start. He was actually rather glad that Harry and Hermione (especially Hermione right now) weren't here to listen to what he was about to tell Valeria.

"First, I need to tell you that you won't be that way forever or anything-I'll have you out of that in just a bit. But I'm going to tell you why I'm leaving you that way for a moment longer-and why I've left you there until now." Ron settled on the leaves next to her, speaking as gently and reassuringly as he could.

"I know you're probably wondering why you trusted us, and then we do this to you. There are some things about us-my friends and my brothers and me-that are different from you. I'm not allowed to tell you all of it, but we can do some things that you'll never be able to. We're not trying to kill you, or hurt you, or use you for something terrible. We're not like that. It's just that-when the dementors take you over-we have to stop you from hurting us. Now, I know that you, by yourself-don't want to hurt anybody. But the dementors can make you do it-and you already know that. So that's why we had to -do this-to you-so you wouldn't hurt Harry, this time-and so you don't end up getting hurt yourself."

Ron tried to think if he'd forgotten anything. "Oh-yeah-and you've not gone mad or anything-this really happened, and I'll tell you the same again later, if you need to hear it. Now-I'm going to stand up, and point this at you, and say some words. You might see some sparks or something, and you might feel a bit tingly for a moment-it won't hurt, I promise. I know you can't ask me any questions yet, and I can't answer all you'll have, but don't run away-please? I promised to help you-and I still intend to. All right?"

Ron looked into her eyes, and she returned the gaze, blinking hard purposely to try and let him know she understood.

"Okay-ready?" Ron asked her. He stood and readied his wand, pointed, and said the counterspell loudly.  
Valeria squeezed her eyes shut as Ron said the spell, and he was hoping he'd done it right, but then her eyes blinked open again. She moved her head a little, then wiggled her fingers, and her toes began to move inside of her shoes. Little by little, the movement started working its way toward the center of her body, until she was strong enough to push herself up to a sitting position.

_Right, then-feeling better now,_ Ron thought to himself. _Wasn't sure I could do the counterspell on a Muggle. That would have been a brilliant addition to a great day._

"Feeling all right?" Ron asked Valeria, kneeling down again. "Didn't lose anything along the way now, did you?" Ron teased.

Valeria smiled a little. "No, I guess not. And I think it's all working okay now. But that was one of the stranger things that has ever happened to me-and I've already got some pretty weird ones to show. I know how you did it-you didn't have to explain."

"You do? I didn't?" Ron asked, wondering how she'd found out about the Full Body Bind Curse-maybe what the dementors knew could be passed on somehow.

"I saw it once on television. You hypnotized me, didn't you?" Valeria asked, pulling to a standing position and dusting herself off.

_What in the world is that? But go for it, Weasley-she just bought you an explanation.  
_  
"Yes-yes, actually, I did." Ron could feel his ears going red-he was a terrible liar, but he hoped Valeria didn't notice.

Valeria looked very sad for a moment. "It's pretty bad when the only people who'll put up with you have to hypnotize you to keep you from hurting them. I hate that you did that to me-it was so scary-I didn't know if I'd ever be able to move again. But don't worry-I know why you had to do it."

"You do? You understand, then?" Ron stood as well.

"I'm glad you told me all of that while I was still, um, hypnotized. But I wouldn't have run, anyway." She looked down shyly.

"Good. I didn't want to have to chase you down the hill again. And-I'm sure it would have been left to me."

"Do you know _why _I didn't run? Because even when I couldn't move, I could still hear-and I heard what you told them-that you wouldn't leave me here, even after I did that to Harry," Valeria said sincerely, looking into Ron's face. _"You _see the difference-you know that's not me doing those horrible things. No one except Abuelita has ever been able to see the difference between me-and the Muertos. They've always thought we were one and the same-which meant we were all evil._ You_can see there are good things about me, too-the 'me' me, not the 'Muertos' me. Does that make sense?"

"Er, yeah. I know what you mean. And you're right-I do see the difference-I have for a while," Ron said. "But, you know, now that the Mooeertos are trying to get you to hurt us, things will have to be different. I'm not sure how, yet-and I still want to help you-but until we can work it out to get back to our school, and get some help for you, we'll have to watch you really carefully-all the time. It's not because of you-it's because of them. Do you know what I mean? Will _you_ be able to see the difference in _us_then?"

Valeria's eyes were welling with tears yet again.

_I know she's been through a lot, but how can this girl cry so much?_

She gazed into Ron's eyes to show her sincerity when she said, "It's okay. I'll know why you have to do it. Thank you-for trying to help." Valeria reached out to wrap her arms around Ron's neck and hug him tightly for a moment.

Ron wasn't sure what to do about the hug. When Valeria had hugged him in front of everyone earlier, he was so surprised and embarrassed that he stood stiffly until she let him go, in spite of Fred and George's ridiculous pantomimes behind her back to return the hug.

_She cries a lot, and she hugs a lot. Well, I suppose I might, too, if I had dementors in and out of my mind all the time, telling me what to do. If it was Ginny who needed a hug from the one person she thought she could trust, I would hope they'd hug her back and give her what comfort they could.  
_  
Very awkwardly, Ron reached around Valeria, tapping her back lightly with his fingertips, and hoping she'd let go soon.

_Geez-this feels strange. This-really -pretty-girl is hugging me-and there's nothing. Nothing. Of course, I don't know her much, but still...You'd think it'd be different, somehow...but this is just like hugging Ginny, or Mum, or one of my brothers, for cripes' sake. Well, maybe she'll feel better for it, anyway._

It's so different than hugging Hermione.-with all those feelings, and tingles, and knowing she belongs there, and she fits into me just exactly right...Not likely I'll get a Hermione hug very soon, the way things are going. If only I could figure out what I did wrong...

Valeria released Ron's neck and pulled away from him. In that same instant, he thought of Hermione waiting down the hill.

The spark of realization came to him like a Bludger to the back of the head. "Blast!" he said out loud, staring down the hill and away from Valeria. "Bloody hell!- That's it! Why didn't I think of it before?"

_That was __**it-**__-when Valeria first hugged me-this afternoon! Certainly Hermione didn't think...Oh no! That's what she's been so ticked off about. She thinks Valeria and I...But how could she think that?-__**I **__didn't do anything. How could I like Valeria like __**that?**__I don't even know her!_

Weasley-listen to yourself-it doesn't matter. You know Hermione-if she's decided there's something going on-in her head, there's something going on!

Valeria, a little shocked at his outburst, seemed to wonder if she'd caused some problem.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I won't-do that-again," she said uncertainly.

Ron, still distracted, realized how he'd been acting. "Oh-no-that wasn't about you. I just-thought of something-is all. Are you feeling okay now?"

"Well, if that wasn't about me, I have one more thing for you," Valeria said, smiling. Without having to reach far, Valeria leaned over quickly and kissed Ron lightly on the cheek. "That's part of the thank you, too. For believing in me."

Ron could feel the heat of the blush pouring into his face and through his ears. He just blinked at Valeria, mouth ajar, realizing the discussion he'd just had with himself didn't include how _she_ felt about _him_. And she was looking at him just a little oddly.

Frowning, what Ron said was, "We'd better get down the hill. They're waiting."

Still frowning, what Ron _thought_ was,_ Uh-oh._

_# # #_

"What took you so long?" Voldemort growled.

"Forgive me, my Lord. I knew that you were trying to summon me. My Mark's been burning for days now. But Dumbledore's been searching for me, too-I had to dodge some of his people who were on the lookout for me, as well. I did the best I could in getting here." The man pulled back the sleeve of his robe, rubbing at the Dark Mark emblazoned on his forearm. Beads of sweat were forming on his balding brow.

"You told me it would be a very easy little exercise for me to keep this monstrosity afloat, and still be able to pursue Potter myself." Voldemort's voice was full of ominous tension, but he was, for the moment, struggling to keep it controlled. "Now, I find I have to babysit this ridiculous little ball to make sure Potter stays within the boundaries of its influence, while I send imbeciles out to try and bring him to _me_. That denies me the pleasure of seeing him ripped from his world and terrorized before my power. Do you_ know_ how much I've looked forward to seeing that terror in him over the _years_ I've had to wait? Potter has no idea how powerful I've become, but how I've wished to show him _myself_. You've denied me that pleasure, Beeles!"

Beeles cowered a little more with each sentence Voldemort spat at him. "I had no idea, my Lord, that upholding the orb would be more difficult with the climate conditions here. The fog, the density of the air-"

"Don't give me excuses! The shield's been down several times because it's so taxing to keep this dreadful little orb up! I should give you something now to remind you not to lie to me in the future." Voldemort toyed with his wand, even as he concentrated on the silver orb before him. "But I can wait. I have more to ask-and your answers had better not be lies this time. Telling the truth_ may_save you from some of your inevitable pain at the end of our little conversation."

Beeles started to shake visibly, his bulging bottom lip trembling.

"Tell me now-what were the instructions for your duties at the Portkey site?" Voldemort asked with a slightly sarcastic tone.

"But, sir, I didn't realize that the one with the girl wasn't Potter-I just knew that one was missing-I assumed the girl had done her part-" Beeles whined. "It was getting dark, I didn't have much time-"

"Did I mention I that I don't want excuses, either?" Voldemort said tersely, his voice rising. "Just tell me what your instructions were."

"Potter was supposed to be with the girl, and I was supposed to send the others back to Hogwarts without him, after doing Memory Charms on those two idiot watchwizards. But it was close to the time that I knew you were going to suspend the orb. By the time I realized that Potter was with the group going back, I had to improvise, make my own decision-"

"Enough," Voldemort said calmly. "You've told me what I need to know. Had you done what was required of you in the beginning, you would neither have had to improvise nor make your own decisions, which rarely turn out for the better in my ranks. So, now, let's see-" Voldemort ticked the list off on his long, white, spindly fingers, "lies, insubordination, and incompetence. Quite a problem, I'd say. Should you survive the penalty, you'll be pleased to know that you'll be incapable of making such an utter disaster of things ever again. Of course, you'll be incapable of doing most anything-ever- again."

The Dark Lord chuckled then-first just once, then louder and more heartily. He watched with mild amusement as Beeles fell to his knees and begged, hanging on the leg of the tall chair where Voldemort sat. Sweat was running from the Death Eater's brow-tears, mucus, and saliva all mixed and poured from his face as the man blubbered like a two-year-old.

Voldemort watched with one brow raised, still irritated at having to use energy to keep the orb aloft, because it kept him from fully enjoying the show. He twirled his wand back and forth through his fingertips, until Beeles' voice, raspy from sobbing for so long, began to bore him.

Beeles saw the wand stop twirling, and for one fleeting moment a tiny flicker of hope crossed his face. A second later, Voldemort sighed, turned rapidly, pointed his wand, and commanded,_"Crucio!"_

The screams of agony, the woeful pleas, and the writhing convulsions of Beeles, now lying on the floor at the side of Voldemort's chair, went ignored. The Dark Lord calmly absorbed himself in the orb again, and began absent-mindedly twirling his wand through his white, snake-like fingers.


	18. Gates to Nowhere

**~ Chapter 20 ~  
Gates to Nowhere  
**

"I still think we should have Apparated to that wooded spot at the edge of the Forbidden Forest," Moody grumbled. "It's what the man asked us to do, Black."

Sirius and Moody stood on the road just outside the gates of Hogwarts Castle. Though in a secluded area, the Muggle vehicle and equestrian entrance was visible through the trees for a good mile for those folk endowed with the magic to see it at all. Only a cover of waist-high bushes edged the road itself.

Sirius turned away from the old Auror so that Moody wouldn't see the half-smirk there on his face. "_You_ can Apparate to the forest if it will make you any happier. I can ask Dumbledore to hold up the meeting for you while you walk _all_ the way back from there. And you're the one worried about walking distance...that site in the forest is probably farther from the castle than it is to walk across Ireland anyway."

"The only thing I would have been upset about was having missed your clever explanation to Albus as to why you insisted on Apparating smack dab into the middle of the road at the main gate, Mr. Sirius Face-Plastered-All-Over-the-_Prophet_ Black. Do you always do it all _your_ way?"

Sirius looked sarcastically pensive for a moment, putting a finger to his chin. "Yes, actually, I think I do. Just about all the time."

Moody shook his gnarled head, grumbled a response and pulled his broomstick from under his cloak, giving it several solid shakes to move the bristles back into place.

Sirius tutted at the Auror. "Mad-Eye, you'll _never_ get the mileage you should out of that broom treating it that way."

"Look, Black, I know how to take care of a broom. In fact, I was probably doing it the day you were born."

Moody was beginning to get a bit testy, but after he'd made such a fool of himself at the barrier, Sirius felt the need to get the best of the older gentleman a bit more-all in the name of manly jest, of course.

"Yes, but you're talking about maintenance duty for all of those Ministry-issue clunkers. When you've got a nice, even-tempered civilian model like yours," Sirius said with a note of distaste, "you need to pamper it a bit more. Still- it was a good choice for someone your age."

"At least I can manage to stay on mine," Moody retorted hotly.

Sirius started in with a great deal of false sincerity. "Look-a lot of people wouldn't bother telling you this. But I say to myself- 'help him out, Sirius. He gave you a chance. Do the man a favor.' After all, what are_ friends_ for?" It took a great deal of self-discipline to say it all straight-faced, but Sirius managed it before he turned to his own broom.

Pulling his classic, refurbished _Nimbus 1972_ racing broom from his cloak and carefully laying it on a clean patch of grass at the edge of the road, Sirius proceeded to bend over it and launch into a purposely long-winded lecture about broom care as he tweaked the individual bristles back into place.

Almost as soon as Black started with his explanation, Moody acted strangely, as if he'd caught a movement in the forest out of the corner of his magical third eye. Standing frozen at attention, he seemed to be listening for something. Then in one swift movement, he ran at Sirius' elevated backside and shoved with all his might, sending Black sprawling face first into the bushes with a startled yelp.

"Shut it!" Moody warned in a loud, urgent whisper. "Someone's coming!"

Moody pitched the_Nimbus 1972 _into the brush, and swiftly checked to see if there were any telltale signs of Sirius Black left uncovered by the bushes. Apparently satisfied that he was hidden for now, Moody swung around toward the road just in time to see a battered and rusty, once-turquoise blue Ford Anglia make the last turn in the road before reaching the great gates.

"Who is it?" Sirius hissed from the bushes.

"It's-I'm not sure, exactly. It's a beat-up, old blue Muggle car," Moody said uncertainly.

Harry had mentioned once in a letter that a charmed but temperamental old blue car lived in the Forbidden Forest. Though his godson hadn't really described the situation, Sirius got the impression that Harry had some greater connection with the machine than just the passing on of a school rumor. Sirius wasn't even sure that the thing really existed until he peered through the bushes and saw the car amble up the road on its bent axles and half-flat tires, bumping along almost cheerfully.

From his vantage point crouched inside the large bush, Black looked carefully to see if the vehicle was manned. Sure enough, he could see two people in the front seats and Moody wandered out into the road to meet it as if he recognized those in the car.

"Arthur! Molly!" Moody exclaimed, obviously pleased to see them from the tone of his voice.

"Alastor! Good to see you!" Arthur said sincerely. "Albus told us you were part of one of the search and rescue squads for the kids-"

At mention of 'the kids', there was a sudden, loud wail from the inside of the car, then muffled sobs. Arthur turned his attention to his wife. "Augh! I've done it again. Molly, dear, we just can't keep from talking about them in conversation when we're all in the business of trying to rescue them-if they really _need_ rescuing," Arthur said gently, but sensibly. "I know you're upset, but being a complete basket case until we get final news about them won't help a thing."

"That's just it," Sirius could hear the female voice wail. "Albus knows nothing definite either way. I don't know whether to be upset because something awful has happened to them, or plotting my revenge on Ron and the twins for putting us through this." Some sniffles followed, after which Arthur patted his wife's hand and turned to face out the car window toward his friend again.

"So, you're back from Ireland, right? Or are you just heading out? Any news?" Arthur asked.

"I've just returned, actually-and no, I'm sorry to say we don't have much more ro report yet," Moody responded.

"Oh," Arthur said in disappointment. "You came back alone? Albus gave me the impression you were working with a partner," Arthur said. "Anyone I know?"

Moody looked rather startled at the question and seemed unsure what to do with it. "Er-I rather doubt you'd know him, but-well, he stayed behind to check something out," Moody invented. "Actually, I'm out here because when I arrived, this old mongrel dog I've seen around came out to greet me. He's an ugly old cuss, but I feel rather sorry for him, so I've sort of taken him in. But now, he seems to have run off..." As if to cement the thought of a dog into Arthur's brain, Moody turned, whistled, and called. "Here, boy! Come on! We've got a good, gristly piece of raw tripe waiting for you back at the castle-your favorite! Here, boy!"

Sirius could do nothing but sit and listen to Moody exacting his revenge.

"Looks like he's run off now, though," Moody continued. "Well, he'll show up-probably wander into the castle in an hour with his tail between his legs."

"We were on our way back to the castle now. Can we give you a lift?" Arthur offered. "It's not the most luxurious ride you've ever had, but it'll be memorable, I promise."

"He's right when he claims it's not luxurious," Molly said in teary disgust, apparently recovering somewhat. "But he's always fancied this old thing, for some ridiculous reason, so here we are."

Arthur sounded mildly hurt by her tone. "I only wanted to cheer you up, dear. I thought a little jaunt and some old memories might give us a break from all the worrying. And it isn't just me-the car loves me, too-all I had to do was walk to the edge of the woods, and out she came."

Moody, seeming anxious to get back to the castle and relay their information, jumped in to interrupt the little 'discussion' between the Weasleys.

"Well, I'd love to get that ride to the castle now, memorable or not." Moody looked at the car's back door handle in confusion for a moment before muttering_ "Alohomora!" _opening the door, and climbing into the back seat, broom in hand.

Arthur grabbed the rear-view mirror from where it dangled and banged against the windshield. He held it up to look into it, apparently checking for any traffic that might have snuck up behind him during their conversation. Finding no other vehicles to yield to in the emptiness of the Scottish forestland, he stepped on the gas of the still-idling car, and they rolled away slowly, the car bumping and heaving down the road.

Minutes later, Snuffles emerged from the bushes, looking longingly after the car that was now out of sight. Making mental note of an imaginary 'win point' for Moody, he grudgingly admitted to himself that the score was now: Moody, 2 - Black, 0.

The huge, black dog started to trudge slowly and dejectedly down the road toward the castle when he remembered something. He backtracked to his starting point and dipped his head.

Several Hogwarts students walking to class were greeted by an amazing sight that afternoon. Plodding slowly along the edge of the grounds from the main gate, wandering close to the edge of the forest, was an enormous, shaggy, black dog- with a classic, refurbished _Nimbus 1972_ racing broom balanced carefully in his mouth.

# # #

The actual meeting between Dumbledore and his two-man search party was not much more successful than was Sirius' attempt to get a ride back to the castle.

The Headmaster was already involved in conversation with Moody, though the two men had waited to discuss Ireland until Snuffles arrived.

"We've been lucky so far in that regard, but I'm not sure how much longer it will last," Dumbledore sighed. "There were two reporters from_ the Prophet_ here today, claiming that they were simply trying to confirm or deny some rumors that had been circulating their office about some lost students. They seemed to be _really_ interested in the rumor that Harry Potter was among the missing. The two of them tried to be quite persuasive, saying that they were just as interested in disproving the rumor as they were in uncovering a disappearance story."

"Not ruddy likely. So what did you tell them?" Moody asked.

"Nothing, really. I just told them some gibberish about Hogwarts rumors, how they get started, and the places they turn up. Then I gave them a dose of a heavy-duty Memory Charm, and sent them on their way with smiles on their faces." Dumbledore was quite pleased at his own cleverness, though he wondered how long the charms would really last. "Eccentricity, or the appearance of it, is not always a burden."

A slight lull in the conversation yielded a strange, scratching noise coming from just beyond the outer office.

Dumbledore furrowed his brow. "Do you hear-?" Then a look of realization crossed his face. "Oh, dear." The Headmaster stood from behind his desk and swept to the outer foyer.

After several words from Dumbledore, the office door slid open to reveal Snuffles, his tongue hanging out from underneath the handle of his racing broom. Turning a bit sideways to enter the room with the broomstick still in his mouth, Snuffles walked in slowly and deposited the broom on the floor, transforming into the tall, dark Sirius the moment the office door had closed.

"Albus," Sirius nodded in acknowledgment before striding into the inner office and flinging himself into the unoccupied chair in front of the Headmaster's desk. Picking a piece of foliage from his hair, he flicked the plant sprig into the air and touched the wand in his pocket-the plant disappeared in a small puff of yellow-green smoke.

"I trust your escort to the castle was satisfactory, Mad-Eye," Black said with feigned politeness.

Moody appeared to be watching Sirius without turning his head. "It was, Black."

"Wouldn't have wanted to cause any unnecessary splinters, or wear and tear on your equipment there," Sirius said, nodding at Moody's wooden peg leg.

"No problem," Moody returned. "Nary a scratch."

Dumbledore noted that the air between the two men was a strange mix of growing familiarity and growing tension.

"So-I see you haven't returned with our students. What did you find?" Dumbledore asked, anxious to get on with solving the problem at hand.

Sirius and Moody seemed to then dissolve their differences as they swung into a full explanation of their findings regarding the barrier in Ireland. They made an effort to describe every detail about size and shape and magical construction of the barrier, its properties before and after spells were cast, and its ability to stop magic literally in its tracks. Once Sirius and Moody had spilled forth all of their information, the three men sat solemnly for a few moments, seemingly lost in their own thoughts.

"I saw Arthur and Molly Weasley today," Moody said quietly. "How are the girl's parents taking it? Do they know very much yet?"

"How do you think they're taking it?" Sirius replied, a bit irritably, even though the question had been directed to Dumbledore. "And how much do _we_ know yet?"

Moody grimaced at the younger wizard.

"Sirius, I realize that in actuality, you _are_ what I would consider one of the families involved, and I can understand your frustration," Dumbledore said, trying to calm Black as much as possible. "It's likely even worse for you because you're aware of how very little we know so far about how to get them back, and you know just how much danger they may be in. But you're also in the position of being able to help get them back yourself. Or would you rather be sitting around and waiting like the others?"

Dumbledore almost shuddered to think what it would be like to try and restrain Black sufficiently under those circumstances. At least Sirius' involvement in the search kept him away from the press, whether for the students' sake, or his own.

"To answer your question, Alastor-they're doing as well as could be expected. The Weasleys are all here now-Charlie just arrived today. Molly's had the worst time of it, I suppose, but then, you know how protective she is of those children. And when not one, but three of her sons are missing... Arthur's holding up a bit better because I think he feels he has to be strong for the lot of them. The Grangers joined us today, but I'm not sure they understand what kind of trouble the dementors can mean. And although the Dursleys were sent a message by Muggle wire, I haven't had any response from them yet."

"Sodding _lumps_ of human beings those Dursleys are," Sirius grumbled.

"Actually, I'm meeting with the families later to inform them of what we do know. I'd like you to stay, Alastor, in case they have any questions we haven't covered. Of course, Sirius, you're welcome to stay, too, but it will have to be as Snuffles."

Sirius grunted in response.

A lull in the conversation brought a frown of concentration to Dumbledore's face. He began to talk quietly, as if trying to both remember and clarify something in his own mind by speaking it out loud to Sirius and Moody.

"You know, I wonder if it could be... Perhaps the orb really does exist. But I've always been told that it was just a legend-no one I've ever known could conceive of creating a spell of that magnitude," Dumbledore said.

Sirius and Moody looked at one another, apparently to see if one or the other understood the Headmaster's ramblings. Between questioning looks, slight shrugs, and shakes of their heads, both seemed to silently agree that they were lost.

"Then there's that new weather instrument that was able to shield those professional Quidditch games from bad weather. That spell was very large, and rather cumbersome, much like the barrier you two have described. I wonder if that Beeles fellow ever worked with something like that in the M.M.S..." He trailed off into his own thoughts and it was several minutes before anyone spoke.

"Have you found him yet, Albus?" Moody asked quietly.

"Oh- Beeles? My sources for both his family and the M.M.S. are to check in with me tonight, so maybe we'll have something more in the morning," Dumbledore replied.

The quiet, the speculation and the lack of action and answers seemed to have gotten to Sirius. Now a bit rested after sitting in the office talking, Sirius now appeared to be re-focused and ready. Unfortunately, his abundant energy also seemed to be bringing back his frustrations, and thinking that he would have to wait until morning to act had apparently struck a nerve.

"In the morning? In the _morning?_" Sirius questioned dangerously. "Albus, it's been almost forty eight hours since we've seen those kids. You're talking about sleeping and resting and waiting until-in the morning- for your 'sources'! There'll be no sleeping for me until I've found Harry-don't you see that?" Sirius' voice was rising with every word. "I can't do it-I just can't do it! I'm through with waiting. The only answer I have is that I can _walk_ through that barrier, and if that's the only way I can get to Harry,_ that's the way I'll get to Harry!"  
_  
Sirius stood, and without regard as to whether he was wizard or a dog, he strode to the outer chamber, grabbed his broomstick, and stalked out the chamber door.

"Sirius! Sirius!" Dumbledore called, to no avail.

"Black, don't be an idiot!" Moody shouted after him. The two men looked at one another as they realized they were calling to an empty corridor.

"I'll go after him," Moody volunteered. "It'll work out."

Dumbledore stood wordlessly behind his desk as he listened to the clunk-step sounds of Moody's footfalls disappearing down the hall.

# # #

Though it had been a struggle, Moody finally caught up with Sirius in the corridor. Grabbing the young wizard's arm in one strong hand, the Auror dragged his old charge into an empty classroom before any of the few students wandering the hallways became curious enough to really study Black's face.

As soon as the two men were inside, Sirius yanked his arm from Moody's grasp with a scowl on his face.

"Going to arrest me again, Mad-Eye? What are the charges this time? Trying to save Harry-again?" Sirius asked sarcastically.

"You're a fool, Black! You want somebody to recognize you? Because if that happens, you can bet that there will be nothing you can do for Harry for a very long time. Are you willing to risk that?" Moody asked intently.

Sirius dropped his eyes to the floor and took a deep breath. "No. But I'm going back to Ireland. I don't care who else goes."

"Black-Sirius-" Moody said in as gentle a tone as his gruff voice would allow, "you'll never find them, especially going off half-cocked like you are."

"I don't care. I have to start somewhere. I'm not leaving him there any longer without _doing_ something," Sirius said determinedly.

Moody looked at Sirius and realized it was hopeless. "Nah-go ahead, then-be your stubborn self. Show them the true Sirius Black who can get through anything, including twelve years of Azkaban. See what good it does you."

Sirius' eyes bored into Moody's . Black's gaze reflected the depth of hatred that could only belong to someone who had endured the trials he had survived.

But the hatred was not for Moody, and the old Auror could tell that. The hate he saw in Black's eyes was for all of the years that Sirius had had to go without-without his own life, without his best friend James, without being able to see James and Lily's happiness, and without the chance to be Harry's godfather.

Though Moody felt at first that so much hate would turn him away from the ex-prisoner, what it actually did was force the Auror to understand him better. If he looked deeply, beyond the hate, what he saw before him in Black was love for Harry, and determination to find him and keep him safe. Now he could see just how Black had survived all of those years-he had let the hate and desire for revenge keep him alive on the outside, and his love for life, his friends, and Harry keep his heart alive deep inside.

Moody felt a twinge of regret that his words about Azkaban had slipped out.

Sirius seemed to have been expecting a similar response from Moody. He just half-snorted, then started to turn away. "Yeah, well, see you around."

Moody waited until he saw Black disappear through the doorframe. He could hear the quick footsteps echoing down the halls. It took him a minute to make a decision, but once he had, he knew it was the right one.

Stepping to the doorway, then continuing down the hall after Sirius, Moody instantly conjured a walking stick to help him move faster.

"Black! Wait!" Moody called when he came within hearing range.

Sirius stopped, rolling his head in exasperation as he turned to face the scrambling older man. "What now, Moody? More suggestions? More helpful ways to search for people without actually going where they are?"

Moody kept hustling along until he stood directly in front of Sirius, panting. "Just one-I'm going back with you."

Sirius looked at the old Auror quizzically, as if he was uncertain of his sincerity.

Still trying to catch his breath, the older man continued. "But you'll call me Moody, or Alastor even. So much as one more 'Mad-Eye', and I'll grind this pegleg right down your throat. Agreed?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes and shook his head as if in disbelief, a stern and sober look on his face.

Moody thought perhaps his half-joke hadn't gone well. Maybe Black wouldn't even_ let _him go along-willingly, anyway.

But all at once, it was as if the sun came up on Sirius Black, and his sparkling grin came to the fore. "You're on, old man. But what about Dumbledore's meeting?"

Moody thought for a moment, then smiled a little. "Albus was always better at that 'family' sort of thing anyway."

"Going to show me more about how to stay on my broomstick-_Moody?" _Sirius asked sarcastically.

Though the tension between the two men had been great, the fact that they had been able to overcome it that day meant a lot to the both of them.

The old Auror was pleased as well that Sirius seemed to be going along with his conditions about the name. But still, there was even something about the way Black could say 'Moooody' that made it sound like fingernails being dragged across a writing slate.

Striding alongside one of the most unlikely but most dedicated working partners he would probably ever have, Alastor Moody just gritted his teeth and kept walking.

# # #

"Erm...I can't go," Ron said quietly and quickly, almost hoping no one heard.

But Fred did. "What? What do you mean, you can't go?"

After what they hoped was one last meal- ever- of fish and potatoes, the group was preparing for the eight o'clock Portkey departure to Hogwarts. If Fred and George's calculations were right, the Portkey should have re-set itself automatically by the default timer. The twins had even managed to make a simple alteration in the departure location. They had changed it from the site at the top of the hill to the flat space out in front of the cottage; since it was such a short distance from the original site, and with the change, they wouldn't have to climb up the hill in the dark.

The boys had briefly considered taking Valeria back with them, much to Hermione's very apparent chagrin. But they had already figured out that the Ministry of Magic was not going to take this entire situation lightly, and to transport a Muggle by Portkey into the middle of Hogwarts without prior permission would surely be grounds for immediate expulsion. What would the penalty be if the Ministry and Dumbledore then found out that they had knowingly ushered rogue dementors right onto the castle grounds along with the Muggle girl? They shuddered to think about it. If Valeria was ever to visit Hogwarts in hopes of banishing her 'Muertos', the group decided that it had better be done after Dumbledore had been given fair warning.

As they all collected their few items here and there from around the room to shove into their rucksacks, Ron had a somewhat discouraging revelation. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he left. As badly as he wanted to go back to Hogwarts, he couldn't leave Valeria here on her own. If he did, she would have to face the wrath of the dementors alone, now twice thwarted in their attempt to abduct Harry, and undoubtedly the wrath of the other evil thing he'd seen and felt lurking in Valeria's mind. He knew if they left her here alone, Valeria would either kill herself or be killed. Whatever else happened, he couldn't leave her here to die-not once the telempathic connection had led her to him for some purpose.

"I...can't go," Ron stated again.

"Why not?" Fred asked. "I know it's not because you've grown too fond of fish and potatoes."

Ron shuddered. "No. It's Valeria. She came to me for help-all the way to Hogwarts in her mind-so long ago. I haven't been able to help her so far, and I promised I would. I can't go back on that."

"She doesn't have to be alone for long. Maybe we can tell Dumbledore, and he can send someone back to her right away," Harry suggested.

Hermione finished climbing down from the loft ladder with her rucksack over one shoulder. "What are we talking about?" she asked, approaching the three boys.

"Ron's not going," Fred said.

Ron winced. _Oh, man-Fred! __**I **__needed to tell her-and not like that._

A worried look crossed Hermione's face, even if she still seemed angry with Ron. "You're staying here? Why-to help _her?"_ She nodded in the direction of the door.

Valeria was sitting just outside, talking to George. It was George's turn to stay with her, since they'd all decided that everyone, excluding Harry, would take turns 'keeping watch' over Valeria at all times, so they could know immediately when the dementors returned.

_Hermione-you know me better than you think. Now, try to understand, too-please?_  
"Just until all of you can have Dumbledore send someone back here. Why do I have this ability if I can't use it to help people?" Ron asked.

"Ron, you can't stay with her alone-she's already tried to choke you! I know you need to use your ability-it helped save Harry today. But I don't think that using it means getting yourself killed-because we'll see precious little of your ability then, now, won't we?" Hermione's tone, though used to voice her concerns, was still rather stiff and formal.

"I made a promise. I'm not going back on it," Ron insisted, trying to stare her into returning his gaze.

But Hermione looked toward Fred and Harry. "Forget it, you two. It's no use. He trusts her completely-couldn't you tell from the way they were acting today?" She shot a glare toward Ron that was so cold it almost made him shiver. Once she seemed to feel the look had made its point, she turned to walk away. "I'll be waiting outside for _whoever's_ going."

"Hermione!" Ron called after her, wishing he knew just what to say to make her see reason. But it was no use.

_Harry'll get it-he'd stay if our positions were reversed. _"Harry, you understand, right? I'll need all of you to talk to Dumbledore, or my dad- get someone back to help us as soon as you can-maybe later tonight or tomorrow. But I can't leave her here alone," Ron explained, looking hopeful.

Harry sighed, and glanced at Fred, to see if he'd gone back to packing. "Ron-I can almost see why you're doing this. But Hermione's right-getting yourself killed isn't going to help anything. Remember, you're not only staying with Valeria, but with a pack of dementors in her mind, besides. How smart is that? What would you tell me to do?"

"Yeah, but the dementors don't do the same things to me that happen to you-at least, not as much. I think I can fight them off-and I know you won't leave us here very long. The dementors are still only in her mind. I didn't even use magic on her last time-because I wasn't sure what it would do to her-and I did okay without it, anyway." Ron tried to sound certain himself. _Wish I __**felt **__that way, too_.

George wandered in to pack his rucksack, now that Hermione was outside, and 'on watch' with Valeria. "What's this I hear about you staying, Ronnie?"

_So everyone thinks they know what's best for me-how very thoughtful,_ Ron thought sarcastically. "Yeah, so I'm staying. So what! I can't just leave her here," he said irritably.

"Hey-what are you mad at me for? I just got here," George said.

Ron looked down and grimaced in a semi-apologetic way, but he didn't apologize.

"Are you sure you're staying to help her?" George asked sincerely, raising his eyebrows. "Not just because she's-you know-sort of good-looking?"

Ron narrowed his eyes and shook his head. _Does everybody think that's why? _"No!" he replied. "I wouldn't care if she was Flitwick's twin sister! I promised to help her, and if she's dead by the time we get back with help, I won't have helped her much." _  
_  
George paused for a minute or two, thinking about Ron's reasoning, then spoke matter-of-factly. "All right. Then I'll stay, too."

"No, George, that's not the point. You don't have to do that. You didn't promise anything," Ron said, surprised at his brother's offer.

"Heh. You don't think so, eh? I thought you knew our mum better than that, little brother. How many promises do you think _we_ had to make just to get here?" George asked.

That thought hadn't occurred to Ron in exactly that way. But he was sure George wasn't joking. He couldn't even imagine what the twins would owe their parents if everyone didn't come out of this safe and sound.

"But-we'd better send at least one Weasley back, or Mum and Dad will have a hissy," George finished, turning to his twin. "Oi, Fred! The good news is, you won't have to hear me say 'I told you so' if the Portkey works. The bad news is, you get to explain all of this to Mum and Dad-alone."

"George, you ruddy, noble son-of-a-gun," Fred said, exasperated. "You'll get all the goody points for staying, Mr. Brave and Heroic- and I'll get all the guff, for not bringing you and Ron home. Thanks a bloody lot, you git!"

George just sent a huge grin toward Fred. "Hey, and I won't even have to go hunt for that other sock, either. Aha! So that's the _real_ reason you decided to stay, Ronnie-couldn't find your stuff in such a hurry. I know that thing's around here somewhere..." George wandered off, looking aimlessly around the floor.

Since it was nearly time for the Portkey to activate, they all stepped outside the cottage for the big moment of truth. Would it work this time, or bounce them back again?

Ron, George, and Valeria stood outside of the cabin, the two boys feeling strange as they saw their friends and family preparing to leave without them. George watched Fred adjusting his rucksack after pulling out the fishing hat Portkey, rambling on with his twin about something to do with the locator re-set.

Valeria observed curiously, having no idea what was about to happen.

Ron just stared at Hermione, who looked as if she was pretending she didn't notice.

Harry, Hermione, and Fred stood together in the center of the small, cleared dirt area, facing inward toward the fishing hat, which Fred held in the center.

Fred checked his watch. "Three minutes to eight o'clock. Go ahead and touch."

Harry turned to look back uneasily at Ron. "You know what? I'm staying, too." Harry pulled away from the circle, taking several steps back.

"What?" Ron and Hermione said in unison. Both of them began protesting Harry's statement with rapid-fire reasons as to why Harry should be the _first_ to go of the entire group, if anyone went at all.

Harry looked from one of his best friends to the other, seemingly unable to hear either one very clearly in the verbal barrage. He began to shake his head and held up his hands in surrender, just to stop the cacophony.

"Don't be stupid!" said Ron's solitary voice, after Hermione had stopped ranting first.

"I tried to tell you the same, Ron," Harry said loudly, taking one last shot.

"Yeah, but we've already been through this. _Go_," Ron insisted. "I have a reason to stay-I was _meant_ to do something for her. You have nothing else to keep you and good reason to leave. And one good reason is to get someone back to us."

Harry sighed and stepped back into position. He and Hermione did as Fred had told them earlier, then glanced back toward Ron.

"Someone _will_ be right back for all of you, Ron-if we make it," Harry said encouragingly. "Once Dumbledore knows where you are, you know how quickly he'll have somebody here to collect you."

"Yeah, the food alone might kill us if he takes more than a day," Ron said.

"Oh, no!" George exclaimed. "Ron's the only one of us that can fish-and he hates the stuff!" He thought a moment. "Actually, I think I do, too, now. Never mind."

"Don't forget to ask Dumbledore about-er-clearance-for a Muggle." Ron whispered the last word, although Valeria wasn't even paying attention to the conversation.

Hermione was though; she didn't look especially pleased.

"And as for the food," Ron continued, "I'll fish enough to keep 'em alive, anyway. Hermione taught me well-she knows just what to do when she goes fishing!"

_Weasley, that was sooo lame! _He'd been trying to think of a way to say something meaningful to Hermione, but what he'd said made him wish he'd just bit his tongue instead. She was leaving, still angry at him, and he hated that. Plus he didn't know how long it might be before he saw her again. He hadn't had a chance to explain that maybe he knew what her problem was-and that there was no reason to think it was a problem at all. Yet he couldn't do much in front of everyone-_especially when she still hates my guts, _he thought.  
_  
_"Okay, thirty seconds," Fred said, nodding at Ron.

Ron quickly turned to Valeria. "Oh-you know what? I've forgotten my-" _Think, Weasley, think! _"-cloak-inside. It's getting right chilly out here! Would you mind getting it for me, Valeria?"

Valeria furrowed her brow at him for making such a strange request, especially when it wasn't that cold. But, she agreed, just to be pleasant, and walked inside the cottage.

At that moment, Fred said in a loud whisper, "On our way!"

The finality of the moment hit both Ron and Hermione at the same time, and they turned to look at one another. There wasn't time for anything except for Ron to realize that Hermione looked hurt-_(__**that's **__what the look was this afternoon, before we left for the village!) _All he had time to do was to try and look apologetic, and hope they wouldn't be apart too long.

In a whirl of opalescent white smoke, Harry, Hermione, and Fred were gone.

Valeria returned with Ron's cloak, just as Ron was turning away from the Portkey site. She looked for the place where the three people bound for Hogwarts had just been.

"They're-gone?" she asked in amazement. "How did they-?" She shook her head, trying to understand, even though she had missed the actual departure.

"Don't worry-it's a special way to travel-we do it a lot more in England than you do in Spain," Ron explained, trying to gloss over the issue entirely. He looked past the cottage and out over the ocean, where the last evening light was illuminating the deep purplish-blue water. _Hmmm-the fog's still out again tonight-all around us in huge banks, but it won't come near here. You're right, as usual, Hermione. Something's too strange about that. How can you be so brilliant?  
_  
He told himself he'd watch the fog for her while they were apart-see if he could make some sense of it for her-she'd like that. Ron took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. _It's only been maybe three minutes-and it's so bloody quiet-how can it be this lonely already?_

Dejectedly, Ron started to head inside the cottage. In spite of the fact that Valeria was looking at him suspiciously, (since she'd just brought his cloak, and now he was going inside), he stood back to let her enter first. She had just crossed the threshold with George right behind, when Ron heard a bizarre whistling sound, then heard a loud thud immediately followed by an unmistakable, "Ooof!"

Ron soon connected the "Oof" with the return of his brother Fred, who was sprawled on the ground behind him, stunned, still clasping the bright orange hat. Seconds later, Harry arrived, hitting the gravel rather violently, then behind him came Hermione, who squealed in pain upon landing.

Covering the ground between himself and his two best friends in but a few long strides, Ron had to be sure Harry and Hermione were unhurt. Before Hermione could protest, Ron's long, strong arms had scooped her up and set her on her feet beside him. He reached a hand down to Harry to pull him to his feet.

George had already helped his twin to stand and the two of them were immediately involved in conversation.

"Damn! And I wanted so badly to be wrong about this one. Then I reckon there's no good news after all," Fred said, looking unhurt, but also smug for some reason.

"No, I suppose there's not," George sighed. "All right, then, let's have it and get it over with."

"I_ told _you so!" Fred said in half-hearted celebration. "But, actually, I don't think it was what we did to the Portkey at all. There's some other problem as well."

"Good! I like that attitude-if it doesn't work, blame it on someone else! But there's no need to lie. I know why you _really_ came back- because you didn't want me basking in all of that glory alone. Bit of an attention-monger, you are, Fred. Well-back to the drawing board with that Portkey, mate."

"But we're trying _my_ way this time. And forget using the default setting-we're setting it ourselves from now on," Fred insisted.

George nodded and slung his arm around his twin's shoulders. The two of them walked into the cottage, where Valeria was standing in the doorway in awe.

Though he couldn't hear her voice clearly from this distance, Ron saw Valeria barrage his brothers with questions as soon as they approached her. But he was more concerned about the welfare of his friends at the moment.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" Harry asked.

Hermione, peering at the heel of her hand even though it was too dark to actually see very much, nodded silently.

"How about you, Harry?" Ron asked, tearing his eyes away from watching Hermione, since he hadn't yet convinced himself that she really wasn't hurt.

"Oh, I'm sure there'll be bruises. I've survived lots worse-you know that," Harry replied.

"Was it the wall again, or whatever you said it felt like before, that sent you back?" Ron questioned.

"Yeah, I reckon. We did hit that thing- mind you, I don't know if that's how we got back- by bouncing from that, or if the Portkey reversed. It definitely feels like someone or something is trying to keep us here-as if we're locked in." Harry paused, his brow furrowed in thought. "But dementors can't do anything like that, can they? I didn't think they were smart enough."

"Me either," Ron agreed. "At least not that I ever heard of. Dad says they can follow orders rather well, as long as they're not asked to do anything above their mental reach. But I never heard of any who could do magic, or create spells, or walls. They only do-what they do." Ron didn't feel like going into a discussion about dementors this late at night after what had been a very trying day.

Harry looked out from under the fringe of hair falling over his eyes.

Ron found the worried look in his friend's eyes more than a little disconcerting.

Harry stood in silence for a long moment before the thought managed to make its way out.

"Ron," Harry began grimly. "You don't suppose...that Volde-"

"No!" Ron interrupted strongly. "No. You-Know-Who's in those mountains, remember? Dumbledore told us so-he wouldn't lie about something like that."

Ron's stubbornness kept him from even entertaining such an idea- it simply _couldn't_ be so.

Harry studied Ron's eyes as if searching for some truth there.

"Yeah. I suppose you're right," Harry conceded uncertainly. "He wouldn't lie about something like that."


	19. Cures and Confessions

**~ Chapter 19 ~  
Cures and Confessions**

Hermione had been so quiet, and it was so dark, that Ron almost forgot she was still standing by his side. But once Harry left, there was still that 'something' he always felt when she was nearby-somehow, his senses always knew.

She had left her rucksack on the ground, listening while the two of them had been talking. As Harry walked away, she leaned over to pick it up and follow him.

"Hermione-are you sure you're okay?" Ron asked.

Tossing back her hair, she was obviously trying to appear confident. "Yes," she tried to say loudly, but it came out as barely a mumble.

"Here-let me take that," Ron offered.

"I'll carry my own rucksack, thank you." Not thinking, she reached roughly for the strap with the hand she'd been looking at so closely before, then immediately let go, as if the bag were a red-hot fire poker. "Aagghhh," she hissed, turning away from him to hide her pained expression.

Hermione shook her hand, then wiped something from her palm onto her cloak. Glancing back when she felt Ron's eyes on her, she reached for the rucksack with the other hand, apparently intent on taking care of everything herself.

But Ron stepped in. "Let's see it," he ordered quietly. He reached toward her. Carefully, but purposely pulling at the injured hand, Ron gently unfolded her fingers from her palm and held it up a bit so that the light from the cottage could reflect on the damage. Even in the near-dark, he could see that several long, deep cuts crossed the heel of her hand where the gravel had made its path during her landing, and blood was oozing down to her wrist in little rivulets.

Hermione stood there, apparently still angry, but was momentarily mesmerized by Ron's gentle insistence on what he was doing.

"You need to wash this off, you know. It could get infected. Look, there's still little bits of gravel in the cuts," Ron said.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said sarcastically. "Now let go of me-I'll do a Disinfecting Charm up in the loft when I get inside." Hermione tried to pull away, obviously mesmerized no longer. "Don't worry,_ she_won't see it."

_There it was, Weasley! Hermione __**does**__ think there's something going on -did you hear that 'she'? Get her calmed down, then maybe you can set her straight. But you've got to chip away at that anger first-or nothing will get through. Let's see-give her the smile? Works well, but makes no sense right now. Stay close, keep touching her? Yeah, you know that works on you, too. And don't let your temper bite you back on this-no matter what she says to you-this is too damned important!  
_  
"No, I think you definitely need to wash this off. I'll get some water for you." Holding Hermione's hand gingerly, yet firmly in front of him, Ron took off across the yard to the well, dragging the rest of Hermione behind him. "Good thing my mum's not here-she'd be making you scrub it clean, and that hurts like a son-of-a...but-I know what to do."

"Ron-stop it! I don't need to-I've already told you..." Hermione continued to resist even as she trailed behind Ron and her hand, her outstretched arm bouncing off of his ribs.

Ron stopped at the side of the well. "Now-stay right there a minute-"

"Or else what?" Hermione replied angrily. "I'm going inside." She had turned and taken two steps, when Ron turned and took one. That meant he had caught up with her, so he reached around her waist, easily lifted her back, and set her down next to the well again.

"Stay put-or I'll put a Full Body Bind on you, whether anyone sees it or not."

"Not if I get to you first-and it'll be much worse than a stupid Full Body Bind!" she threatened, appearing to be sorting out a good spell in her mind to cast on him.

"Go ahead-do your worst!" Ron said, but then added with sugary sarcasm, "But-ohh! Too bad-your wand is way over there in your rucksack, and you're way over here, so unless you've been practicing your'wandless _Accio!', _I'd say you're stuck. Because- my wand's right here." He patted his left side with his free hand. "Speaking of that, some light would help." Ron pulled his wand from his belt with one hand and said, _"Lumos!" _Searching for a small crevice between the rocks of the well facing, he wedged in the handle of his wand, making certain it was out of Hermione's reach.

"Errrrfff!" Hermione growled in frustration, but didn't attempt to leave again. "Why don't you just-"

"Let you go stomping off angry like you want to do, ready to cast boils on the next thing you see?" Ron asked. "Because when we're done cleaning this off, I'm going to tell you something, and you're going to listen. You just don't know it yet."

"If I'm casting boils on anything, it's going to be you!" Hermione spat.

"Ah-ah-ah," Ron tutted. "No wand, remember?"

Ron untied the full bucket from the rope and set it on the rock facing. Though it had been hard work trying to keep from 'returning fire' at Hermione's remarks, having something to do had helped.

Hermione stomped her foot. "You're impossible!"

_Don't say it, Weasley! Don't say it! Don't say it! Oh, blast, you're gonna say it. _He smiled a maddening grin at her. "Don't you just love me that way?"

Hermione set her jaw and narrowed her eyes at him.

_Uh-oh-looks like we've entered the silent rage phase-maybe we'd better get on with this... _Ron held out his palm. "Hand, please."

Hermione's expression didn't change by a hair. She took a deep breath and let it out, but flopped her hand into his, palm up and open.

Pulling her hand across him to hold it in his two larger ones, he carefully pushed all three of their hands into the pail. It wasn't easy for him to ignore the fact that her arm had to be partially wrapped around his side. Ron was glad that she was facing the back of his shoulder-she wouldn't be able to see his face as he desperately searched for the words that would make things right with her once more.

As he lowered her hand into the cold water, Ron could feel her tense up against him, and he heard her draw breath through her teeth from the stinging of the cuts. In the light emanating from his wand, he tried to see down into the water. He rubbed very gingerly at the scratches, and he could feel the tiny rocks pull loose from her skin. With his other hand, Ron rubbed softly at her fingers and in the middle of her palm, letting her own senses distract her from the pain he had to cause her to clean the deep cuts.

"New moon tonight-no extra light from there, eh? Sorry I have to hurt you to get the rock bits out," Ron said gently. "I wouldn't ever want to hurt you, you know." He glanced over his shoulder to look into her face, wondering if she understood the double meaning of his words.

"It doesn't hurt-much," she replied, a bit less stiffly than before. But Ron could tell by the way she was biting her lip and wincing that it _did_hurt her hand- she was just too stubborn to let on.

_Maybe the pain's distracting her from understanding what I meant. If she __**did **__get what I said, she's too blasted stubborn to let on with that either. Well, I can out-stubborn you any day, Hermione, if it's to get to something as important as you._

Ron's attempts at soothing Hermione's hand must have had some effect on her, because she let out a small sigh. He noticed she had become quite calm and quiet. Instead of standing at arm's length away from him, she had curled herself around him and was almost leaning against his back as he worked on her hand. Ron started washing the dried blood from her wrist, rubbing carefully at it with his strong, but gentle fingers until it came off.

Pulling his wand from the rock facing with one hand, he mumbled a Disinfecting Charm and pointed the wand at his shirt, then said a Severing Charm and ripped a narrow strip from the bottom. He carefully lifted Hermione's cleansed hand from the water, cast the same Disinfecting Charm on her hand and patted it dry softly with the front of his shirt, since he knew the shirt was now clean, warm, and dry.

After re-lighting his wand, Ron started to wrap the strip from his shirt around Hermione's hand and wrist , winding and tying until the slashes were well-protected. Though he didn't look into her face as he continued wrapping, he could feel that she was relaxed and warm, now resting against his back.

For one long moment, anyway.

"Damn!" she said in an irritable whisper, tensing and pulling away when Ron was almost finished.

Ron stopped his work on her and turned his head to stare at her in shock. He must have heard wrong. "Was that-_you?"  
_  
Hermione ignored his question and slapped him lightly on the shoulder with her free hand. "I need to be mad at you-I _have_to be mad at you! Because she needs you."

"What?" Ron said in surprise. "What are you talking about?" He'd finished bandaging her hand with the shirt strip, but he didn't let her have her hand back, even after he turned to face her.

"Valeria. She needs to have you help her-and then I shouldn't interfere. But then it seems like maybe you want to be around her more than just to help her. You and she have all these-secrets-"

"Secrets? You mean, when I tell her about how to try and fight off the de-"

"I don't know! I don't want to know!" Hermione interrupted in frustration. She looked a bit sad. "I wish we were back at Hogwarts where we could sleep in our own beds, and eat real food and go to class like normal. Now that the Portkey doesn't work, we have to find some other way out of here. I want to be back where everything makes more sense, and things were-the way they were."

"We'll get there soon-they know we're missing-my mum's probably got the whole of the Western wizarding world in an uproar. And the twins will keep working on the Portkey-just because it didn't work this time doesn't mean it won't ever work again. Besides, there's probably someone on their way to find us now," Ron said encouragingly. He started to reach an arm around her, but she moved to avoid it.

Hermione refused to look him in the eye. "But things are different now, aren't they? I mean, if she goes back with us then you'll..."

"Then I'll what? What things are different? You mean because I'm trying to help her? Are you thinking that changes what we-you and I-"

George appeared as a shadow in the doorway of the cottage and cleared his throat, peering out into what was now full darkness and talking at the people he could only hear. "Er, Ron? Sorry- but can you come in? We've got a little problem with-you know-Valeria."

_Bloody hell-could he have possibly timed it worse?_Ron had been on the verge of settling the problem with Hermione. Now it would have to wait-again-and hopefully not get any worse for the wait.

"See what I mean? It's changed already." Hermione said sadly, but matter-of-factly.

Ron wasn't even sure that he had a good response to that. She turned away and walked quietly over to her rucksack, picking it up with the uninjured hand and pushing past George to enter the cottage.

Ron sighed and let his head drop back in frustration.

George met his brother at the door as he walked in, and whispering under his breath, gave a slight nod in Valeria's direction. "She's-er..."

Ron glanced over at the larger couch where Valeria was seated, arms wrapped around herself. She was rocking back and forth, staring straight ahead, and making an eerie humming noise. Fred was seated next to her, talking softly to her, but she didn't appear to be listening.

"What's happened now?" Ron asked.

George continued. "Er, seems she saw them when they, er, came back. When Fred and I came in, she started asking all of these questions, but when we didn't answer her directly-I mean, what could we say?- she started shaking her head and talking to herself. Next thing we knew, she was calling us liars and saying we were all trying to trick her, just like the Moo-ear-what does she call them? Anyway, she said maybe we were all just part of her insanity, because people couldn't just fall out of thin air. You were right-she is definitely mental-even without any dementors."

"Damned dementors!" Ron said quietly, in disgust. "They're tearing her mind to bits. And we're no help-because she keeps seeing things that she can't explain."

"What do you think we should do? Could we put a Calming Spell, or a Sleeping Spell on her, then maybe it'll get better-or what?" George asked.

"George-this girl walked to the edge of the cliffs out there and was ready to jump. She thought she was going to have to kill someone, and that she was going mad. Now she's still being haunted with the dementors trying to get her to drag Harry away, with us trying to do what we know magically, and then we keep it secret from her. How much better do you think it's going to get on its own?" Ron questioned.

Ron made a decision. Whether it was his right to decide for everyone, he wasn't sure. He wasn't even certain if the Ministry would overlook it or make an inquiry when they got back to magical civilization-if they ever did. But there was one thing he knew without a doubt- this was the right thing to do for Valeria.

He knew that Valeria had decided to trust him with everything-even her life. There was no reason to make her continue to try and make sense of what she saw and heard. For some reason unknown to him, she'd already been forced to see enough of their world to make her believe that she was crazy. Many of the things she attributed to her insanity were things that made sense in magical society, or at the very least, could be explained there. What was the point of torturing her further? Ron made up his mind it was time to trust her.

He walked over to the sofa where she was seated, and sat down next to her.

"Valeria, I have something to tell you. Actually, we all have something to tell you," Ron said determinedly, loudly enough so the others could all hear.

The four sets of witch and wizard eyes in the room fell upon him with disbelief. They appeared to be thinking that surely he wasn't going to tell her-_that_...

Ron stared back at them all determinedly. He'd made what he thought was the right decision-he was past having to worry about their opinions now.

"Ron, do you think you should? -I mean, you're not going to tell her what I think you're-" Hermione said quietly, appearing somewhat nervous about the situation. "I mean, the Code of Secrecy..."

It irritated Ron a bit that Hermione was talking about Valeria right in front of her, as if she wasn't there. Even though he hadn't connected with the Muggle girl enough to know if he was right, he sensed that a lot of people had done that to her throughout her life. Suddenly, the injustice of it all hit him, but it only served to strengthen his resolve.

The Ministry of Magic kept a tight rein on exactly which people in the Muggle world would be allowed to know about the magical one. Those Muggles like Hermione's parents, who had magical children or relatives, were usually not a problem, due to the fact that disclosure might endanger their loved ones. Muggles like the Dursleys were no threat because those were people who didn't want other Muggles thinking they were 'barking mad'. It was generally accepted that the Prime Minister of England and some other high-ranking Muggle officials with ultra-high-security clearances were allowed to know out of sheer necessity in keeping world order. But anyone else who was unrelated to the magical realm was in the dark about the society that shared their world, and Memory Charms were used to keep them there, if ever they crossed some magical path.

Harry and Hermione had both grown up in the Muggle world, and the two of them were usually less affected by some of the omens, taboos, and cultural acceptances that were part of magical society. But even the two of them appeared worried-even they knew how serious a thing it was that Ron was considering doing in telling Valeria who they were.

Ron simply looked at Hermione, the answer to her question quite obvious in his eyes. Then he turned to Valeria and began to speak. "When I came yesterday, it didn't take you very long to let us stay here with you, and share your food."

Even the twins seemed to feel they needed to say something when it appeared that their little brother was actually going through with this.

"Ronnie," George said gently, interrupting, "You know what you're doing here, right?"

Ron nodded to him solemnly. For a moment, he looked at the twins appreciatively, realizing why they were asking him, and rather amazed that Fred and George would even think to worry about him this way. But Ron also knew that once the two of them saw the conviction in his eyes, that they would back him to the hilt in his decision. Despite the fact that they were squirrelly and irritating to him throughout a large portion of their lives, they were also two great, caring big brothers when he needed them.

"The point is-" Ron continued. "You trusted us-completely. Now it's our turn to trust you. What we need to tell you is-er...we're not exactly like you," Ron started, trying to tell her without shocking her.

Valeria had been curiously observing the tension between the other four, who were just now sitting down where they could, gathered around her and Ron on the sofa. She appeared a bit nervous, seeming to feel that the problem might have been from something she'd said or done.

"Yes, I know that," Valeria responded. "It's taken me almost eighteen years, but I've found out I'm not like _anyone_else. That's why no one ever wants me around, except Abuelita. I-and the Muertos-frighten them."

"The beings are part of this, too, in a way," Ron continued. "But we'll get to them in a minute. You know how, today, up on the hill, I told you that there were some things that we could do that you would never be able to do?"

"Like hypnotize people?" Valeria said, jumping in.

"Er, yeah-well, here's the thing. I don't really know what that is-I just agreed with you when you said it. I didn't hiptotease you, and neither did Hermione. What she did to you to make you freeze like that-" Ron paused and took a deep breath. After this, there would be no going back. "What Hermione did-was magic." Ron looked at Hermione for support, but all she did was glance back at him dully, so he pulled his wand from where it had been hidden in his back pocket. "Remember when I had to point this at you afterward so that you could move again? Then I said some words, and you were free? That was the countercurse to what Hermione did to freeze you-that was magic, too."

Valeria looked a bit confused. "Magic? Like at a magic show?"

Now Ron was lost. This was tougher than he thought. "Harry, help me. Have you any idea what she means?"

"Yeah," Harry responded. "Sometimes Muggles pretend they can do magic. They have magicians who dress up in stupid costumes and saw ladies in half and stuff."

Fred and George were both excited at this news, but it was Fred who spoke. "They saw ladies in half? Wicked!-But what for?"

"I don't know," Harry answered truthfully. "To prove they can put them back together again, I suppose."

"But that's some bloody good magic, if they can do that-probably Dark Magic, though. They _must_be one of us to do it. How does the Ministry let them get away with it?" George asked.

Hermione had had enough. "It's not real magic, like we do. It's fake magic. They do it with smoke and mirrors, and specially built boxes. It's all for show," she said in disgust.

"Why don't you show her some real magic, Hermione?" George asked. "Go on-maybe you could charm the fire for the night. It always lasts the longest when you do it."

Hermione didn't seem pleased to be put on the spot like this. "Why don't one of you gentlemen do it for a change? She's already seen me do it anyway."

"Come on, Hermione," Ron said. "Fire and light are like breathing for you. We have to actually _try_, and then it's only half as good as yours." Ron had always been very proud of Hermione's stunning ability in that area of magic ever since first year, when she'd set Snape's robes on fire at the Quidditch match.

All four boys stared at Hermione, waiting. "Oh, honestly!" she said finally, standing to walk to the hearth. Hermione threw two more logs on top of the fire, then chanted her spell. The fire flared obligingly as she intensified the heat and the flames.

Valeria seemed even more impressed, now that she could watch in earnest and accept what was really happening.

"Perfect, as always," Ron complimented, but Hermione just sneered at him.

He turned back to Valeria. "So, I reckon the magicians you've seen are pretending they can do some of the things that we can do for real. We use magic for things we do every day-like starting fires, making something that we need, fixing something that's broken, or stopping someone from doing something. We can fly-on broomsticks, like at the Quidditch game-and travel other special ways-like you saw a while ago. You aren't going mad, Valeria. You saw Fred and Harry and Hermione coming back from a magical way to travel. What you saw was real-to us."

"I actually only saw Harry and Hermione come back-but they just came out of the air, like someone cut a hole in it and they fell through," Valeria said.

"Yeah-that's right. Exactly right-that's what happens when you use a Portkey."

Valeria gasped excitedly. "Oh, a 'Portkey' is what the dementors told me to tell Harry, and then Tom-arghhh!" Just as she had the day before, Valeria grabbed her head with both hands, her face registering severe pain. She rocked back and forth for few minutes, with the rest of the group looking on helplessly.

Ron felt compelled to reach out and touch her shoulder. He'd been inside her mind with that excruciating pain, and couldn't imagine what it would be like to have it pushed on you when you weren't expecting it. It was almost as if something that she said or thought had caused the pain to come. But he had to be wary-it could mean the dementors were coming, as well.

Hermione, Harry, and the twins were watching with eyes wide open. They weren't sure if they were going to have to pull wands or not at any moment to subdue Valeria.

"At least she'll know what wands are when they're pointed at her now, eh, Ron?" Fred asked.

"Yeah, great," Ron agreed unenthusiastically.

Valeria's muscles started to relax a bit, and she pulled her arms away from her head. She looked up cautiously, apparently uncertain if the attack was over-it seemed that the pain hadn't been as intense, or had lasted as long this time.

"What's happening, Valeria?" Ron asked. "Is it stopping?"

Valeria looked almost afraid to say anything, but after a minute she gathered the courage. "Yes, I think it's going away. You know-I think I used a good thought, Ron. I knew you were here before the pain started, and I started to think that you wouldn't tell me about magic if you didn't trust me and think it was okay to be around me -at least a little."

"Were there dementors? Did it help with them?" Ron asked curiously.

"The dementors themselves weren't there, but I could feel the sadness and the dark around the edges of the pain. The good thought made it better," Valeria said, a bit surprised that it worked. "Are good thoughts 'magic'?"

Ron smiled. "Sometimes. The dementors are from our world, Valeria. I don't know how they came to you, or how they got inside your mind. That's another reason I've told you all of this-I don't think anyone except someone magical would ever understand how to help you. Remember when I talked to you earlier about how we were going to have to watch you very carefully to keep us safe? And remember that I told you it wasn't because of you, but because of them?"

Hermione kept fidgeting in her seat as she listened to Ron talking so gently to Valeria, reminding her of all they'd discussed about dementors and good thoughts and what they'd done that day together. She finally got up and wandered around the room a bit, seeming to try and work off some uneasiness.

"I'm going to have to show you a bit of our magic now. I don't want you to be afraid, but we have to have a way to keep you safe, and keep us safe at the same time-and I don't think anyone here wants to stay up all night watching you after the day we've had today."

Ron looked around at everyone surrounding the two of them. Everyone was shaking their heads, and Harry was already yawning.

"What do you think, the Leg-Locker Curse?" Ron asked. "It'd keep her from getting around very fast-unless she's going to chase us down in a handstand."

"Yeah, I'd think that would do it," George said. "What if the dementors come to her mind? Will that be strong enough to control her then?"

"It should," Harry answered. "What do you think, Hermione?"

"Likely all right," Hermione said shortly.

Ron turned back to Valeria. "If it's okay with you, we'll put the curse on you, then remove it, just so you know it can be reversed. Maybe it won't be so scary then. Is that all right?"

Valeria seemed a bit apprehensive, but nodded her head after a moment. "What do I have to do?"

"Just stand up, so your legs are straight. Otherwise they'll be locked in place bent-it probably won't be as comfortable." Ron looked around at his brothers and his friends.  
"Okay, so who's going to do this? One of you has to be better at it than I am."

Harry saw Ron look his way. He shook his head. "Don't look at me. I haven't done that one in a long time."

Ron knew that Harry was perfectly capable of performing such a simple charm, no matter how long it had been. He was just being stubborn because he didn't want to cast it on Valeria. "Hermione?" Ron said, visually searching the room. _She'd probably __**love**__ to do this right now. _"There you are."

Hermione emerged from the dark corner, where she'd been looking out the window toward the ocean just long enough to solemnly shake her head 'no'. Ron could tell from the look on her face that he shouldn't push it.

"Ron?" Valeria said quietly. "Do you know how to do that?"

"Yeah," Ron replied. "But I'm far from the best at it."

"That's okay. Would you do it? I'd like it if you did it," Valeria said shakily, appearing a bit frightened.

Hermione suddenly stalked across the room to the foot of the loft ladder. "This seems to be going as well as can be expected, so I guess I'll be off to bed. Good night, all," she said tersely, then promptly climbed the ladder and disappeared into the loft.

Ron watched her closely all the way across the room until she was gone, then continued to stare after her._Yep-it's getting worse. But what am I supposed to do? Why doesn't she get it? I'm just trying to help someone who needs it- _He then looked down at the floor for a moment -_and in the meantime, I think I'm losing someone that __**I **__need._

Looking a bit sad, Ron sighed and turned to Valeria. "Okay. Let's get on with it, then."

Ron pulled out his wand and pointed it at Valeria, saying loudly,_ "Locomotor Mortis!"_It worked in in one try. He promptly did the countercurse to prove to her that it didn't hurt and could be reversed, so that she wouldn't be afraid.

While the curse was in effect, Valeria moved her arms around to feel what kind of movement she'd have, even if she couldn't walk. She went to prepare for bed before Ron would put the curse on her for the final time that night.

As everyone was collecting their things and getting ready to sleep for the night, Harry wandered over close to Ron, and looked back to make sure Valeria was not nearby.

Harry spoke in a low voice. "You do know that Hermione's not taking all of this very well-and it's not only because she's worried about you, although that's part of it." Harry sighed, looking reluctant to go on. "This is probably none of my business, but- are you doing all of this to help Valeria, or because you're done with Hermione now, and you're- moving on? You really owe it to Hermione to tell her what you're doing here-she's your friend, Ron-it's only fair."

_I can't believe what Harry's trying to tell me here. Can't he see how I feel about Hermione? I thought Harry would know, if anyone would. And I was __**trying**__ to talk to Hermione earlier. Harry, do you think I could hurt her like that and think nothing of it? I can see what you think of me, then. _Ron looked at his friend as if he were actually going to consider the suggestion, then said, "You know, Harry, I think you're right."

Harry looked a bit relieved.

But then Ron narrowed his eyes at his best friend and said loudly, "If you even _think_ that's the way I'd treat her, then-it _is_none of your business!"

Ron strode across the room to perform the Leg-Locker Curse on Valeria, after she'd climbed into bed.

He stormed back to the couch where he threw himself, then spent a good deal of time trying to calm down enough to get some sleep.

_You know, maybe it's just not bloody worth it, _Ron found himself thinking as he lay staring up at the shadows changing in the firelight on the ceiling. 

Why doesn't anyone understand

_**why **__I'm doing this for Valeria? No one ever came to me for help before because of something that only __**I **__could do for them. It was always about someone else-always._

I

_**think**__ I can help-I __**think **__I can make a difference somehow. But whenever I try to do the right thing for one person, it ends up being wrong for somebody else._

Ron absent-mindedly pulled a thread loose from the sofa back, and yanked it hard, breaking it off just to throw it irritably to the floor.

_Why won't they give me the chance to be-me?_


	20. As Clear As Blood?

**~ Chapter 20 ~**  
**As Clear as-- Blood?**

Ron woke to the eerie sound of soft laughter near his ear. It wasn't light-hearted, happy, musical laughter, but deep, dark, bizarre laughter--and it was female.

He wrenched his head and shoulders around to see the source of the sound, a silhouette framed by the firelight of the hearth behind her. The weight of a long body dropped on top of him. Now pinned to the sofa by her, he could see her face illuminated from the side. As he had feared, it was Valeria. She was darkly beautiful in the firelight, but her expression reeked of evil, ruining the effect.

"You believed in me," she said with a voice he'd never heard before. She moved her face closer to his, staring into his eyes.

The brilliance of green from her eyes felt as if it was burning its way into his brain. As she came nearer, Ron pushed his head back as far as he could into the sofa, until he felt he would smother from it--and her-- surrounding him so closely.

Valeria's face was inches from his. Her lips were parted, her focus was unmistakable. As she started to angle her head to ease her lips onto his, something even more appalling took place. Her skin began to melt away in blobs down her neck, turning her face into a grotesque, scaly, mask. But she remained intent on her goal.

Ron closed his eyes to avoid the burning pain from the green gleam in her eyes, furiously swinging his head from side to side to keep her from settling on his mouth. He knew he'd have to open his eyes to try and escape, and when he did open them, Valeria was gone. In her place, ready and waiting, he could see the huge, gaping mouth of a full-blown dementor, ready to seal Ron's mouth and his fate with its Kiss.

"We're coming," said the same voice that had come from Valeria, breathing the nauseating stench of its foul breath into his face.

Ron struggled to pull his arms together in front of him and pushed with every ounce of strength he owned, sending the dementor flying into the hearth, where its robe smothered the flames and extinguished the light.

Snapping to a sitting position, his chest and his head pounding, Ron gasped and wheezed for air as if he'd been underwater far too long. Trying to fight his way through the Neverland between sleep and wakefulness, it dawned on him.

"Oh," he said aloud in relief._ It was a nightmare--just a bloody, stupid, nasty nightmare. _Ron wiped the sleeve of his shirt across his brow after feeling a trickle of cold sweat make its way down his temple. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sounds of sleep from the others in the room. Though he could not hear Hermione from this distance, the slow, regular breathing of Harry and his brothers lulled him into a feeling of security.

But suddenly, it felt wrong. He snapped his eyes open, only to wonder if they were really open at all. It was pitch black. Poking one finger in his eye to confirm it, he found his eyes were open; it was just too dark to see anything, including the hand that was inches from his face. He remembered the new moon would send him no light from outside even if he pulled back one of the window cloths.

_What the hell...? _he wondered. _What happened to the fire? Hermione's fires never go out completely.  
_  
His mind struggled to sort it all out. _That's right, you threw the dementor into the fire and his robe smothered the flames...No, no, no--that's wrong. That was the nightmare. Now you're awake. __**What **__is going on?_Ron reached behind him and felt around the sofa cushion for his wand--if only he could do_ "Lumos!" _so that he could see, maybe everything would make more sense. He could have sworn he heard an almost inaudible whoosh, and sensed someone or something passing him in the dark.

_If I wake everyone thinking this is real and it's my own nightmare, I'll feel really thick. _He continued to search for the wand with his hands, sticking his fingers into the cracks between the cushions. _Where did that stupid wand go? I left it right here. But everything must be all right. I can still hear Fred and George and Harry breathing. Valeria's over there under the Leg-Locker Curse, so she can't move anyway, and I can hear her breathing---  
_  
He listened in the darkness. _That's weird--no, I can't! She must be facing the wall. I wish I could see for sure. __**Where the bloody hell is my wand?**_The tapping sound of something being dropped on the floor was unmistakable this time, and following that, Ron felt the same whoosh of air and movement as before. Abandoning the idea of letting everyone sleep, he knew that Harry was the closest to him.

"Harry--" Ron said in a quiet voice. "Did you hear that?"

No response.

"Harry!" he said louder. "Do you have your wand? The fire's gone out, and I can't find mine."

Thinking he heard a muffled reply, Ron sat in silence for a moment, waiting for Harry to repeat it. Nothing came.

Throwing off the cloak he'd been using as a blanket, Ron decided to get up and try to make his way the few feet to the small couch where Harry slept. Maybe he could find Harry's wand, or get him to wake up-- one or the other.

Ron felt his way along to the end of the sofa he'd been sleeping on, cursing after jamming his toe on the bottom corner, and then kicking his shoe out from under his stockinged foot.

"Harry!" he said again as he moved along, reaching out for the edge of Harry's couch. Somehow it seemed farther than he'd thought.

Swinging his arm around in the darkness, it connected--but not with the couch--and not with Harry.

Something was crouched over the smaller sofa, where his best friend slept. Ron pulled his arm back in shock at the unexpected contact. Yet, realizing that Harry could be in danger, he took a deep breath and reached out once more. He grabbed in the blackness over and over again where he thought the object had been.

All at once, Ron had a handful of something long and silky. He yanked it back, away from Harry, and felt something heavier that was attached to the silky stuff follow behind. Two blinding green dots swung his way. The shock of the despair and hopelessness drilled into his mind so intensely from out of the darkness that it made him stagger back.

"Valeria!" Ron said in dismay, trying to throw off the shadowy feelings the dementors instilled in him. "But you can't walk--the Leg-Locker Curse--"

_Obviously not an issue now, Weasley. She's standing right in front of you._

Valeria said nothing. Just as Ron was making an attempt to pull her to the far side of the room, a stunning blow came from out of the blackness and hit him squarely on the ear, knocking him off-balance and down on one knee. Valeria pulled free.

"Harry!" Ron yelled, trying to shake off being dazed by the blow. "Harry--are you all right? You there?"

"Hmmm?" Harry replied, sounding sleepy and confused.

Sounds of movement and people waking were coming from all around him now. Ron was thankful to hear Harry and the others waking, but their noises now covered what he could hear of Valeria, and there would be no seeing her without more light--that was certain.

"Your wand, Harry! Get your wand! We need light!" Ron instructed. "Valeria's up!"

"What? But the Leg--" Harry started sleepily.

"I know! Find your wand, Harry! We need light _now!" _

"I'll do it!" said a voice in the darkness. Rustling came from the direction of Fred's bed. "Where in blazes did it go? It was right here." The rustling continued.

A sudden thought came to Ron; Hermione never lost track of her wand. "Hermione!" he yelled toward the direction of the loft. "Hermione!!"

"What's going on? I can't see a thing!!" Hermione's voice answered from above him after a moment. "What happened to the fire?"

"Never mind that. We need light--_fast!!" _Ron wanted to tell her all of what was going on, but his head was aching.

"Just a minute," Hermione answered. Ron could hear slow creaking in the blackness as she moved back in the loft, then came forward again. "Whoa," Hermione said shakily. "I didn't think the edge of the loft was that close. I can't find my wand. It's too dark."

"Mine's missing, too," Ron answered. "I think they all--"

"What are those green lights? I feel de--men..." Harry said groggily from a low point in the blackness.

"George, Fred, find Valeria!! Her eyes are really green--bright green. But don't look at her--the dementors will make you sick. She's trying to get to Harry-- but he's got to be right here--I'll find him," Ron said, trying to pull himself out of the mental fog he was in, and deal with the dark well enough to find his best friend.

Rather than stand and take a chance on falling, Ron dropped to crawl on his hands and knees in what he thought was Harry's direction.

"Ron--did you find him?" Hermione asked from above.

"No--not yet."

"I'm coming down," Hermione said determinedly.

Ron stopped crawling a moment to answer her. "Are you_ barking_ mad, Hermione? Coming down that ladder in this dark? Stay there--we'll find him."

The confusion only worsened as Fred and George began to move about the room, banging into furniture and knocking things to the floor. Stepping on Ron twice, they spent some time crashing into each other as well, thinking they had trapped Valeria. The clamor covered any hope of finding Valeria by listening for her--until they heard the whispering.

"Don't tell-- be my eyes. _Potter's evil_----be my eyes. Be my eyes, be my eyes..." the whispering was moving around the room so fast, it was difficult to believe that it could be human. If that was Valeria, how could she move around that quickly in this darkness? Either that, or the sound was bouncing off of the walls somehow...

Ron's crawling search paid off when he placed his hand on something warm and lumpy on the floor--Harry's arm. He followed the arm with his own hands up to his friend's face, then leaned down and tried to determine if Harry was breathing. As Ron leaned in, his shoulder grazed something that swept quickly away.

"Geroff, you stupid dementors!! _Expecto.._." Harry mumbled. He was apparently too groggy to realize that he didn't have a wand in his hand, and he seemed to think Ron was a dementor attacking him. But other than that, to Ron's relief, Harry seemed all right.

"I've got--" Ron began to tell the others.

"_AAARRGGHHHHH!!_" they all heard in the blackness, as the scream seemed to rebound off the walls and circle all around them. "I will!! I will!!" Valeria's voice shouted at the top of her lungs. "Good thoughts, Abuelita, kittens, morning on the ship..." she listed from somewhere near her corner in her regular voice. "I will--tell-- them!!"

The scream that was heard after that chilled Ron to his very bones, and he was certain it must have done the same to the rest of them. It was deathly silent for at least a full minute, then footsteps were heard pounding across the floor. The door latch jiggled, then with a whoosh of freezing air, the door creaked open swiftly as if it had been thrown. It slammed against the wall of the little cottage, jarring the ground itself with its force.

The deafening silence returned.

"Did she leave?" Hermione asked, panicked. "Has she got Harry?"

"No, Harry's right here-- a little out of it, but he's here," Ron answered. "She ran out--I guess we're better off until the dementors leave her. She can't stay here with Harry--we've just got to hope they don't make her do something awful to herself."

"Unless..."Hermione said in a worried tone. "Unless she's left the door open to let something else in."

"No one's found their wand yet?" Fred asked from out of the darkness.

"They're all gone. Do you think Valeria took them?" George questioned.

"I certainly didn't hear her come up to get mine," Hermione said.

"How did she get out of the Leg-Locker Curse? Are you sure you did it right, Ron?" Fred asked.

Ron didn't answer immediately, then sounded quite irritable when he did. "Yes. I _know_ I did."

"How could dementors help her get out of--" Fred started to ask.

"I don't know, all right? But they said they were--"_ Oh , by the gods! _Ron thought, stopping mid-sentence. _They said they were coming--in the nightmare. Could that be true? Should I tell the rest of them?  
_  
"Dementors don't talk, Ron," Harry murmured, coming to his senses a bit more now.

Just then, from above their heads, the boys heard a soft crackling sound. A very faint glow started to light the room and they all looked up to find its source.

Hermione was standing at the edge of the loft, holding one hand out flat in front of her with the bandaged hand open at its side. Above the outstretched hand was a tiny sphere of shimmering light, wavering in intensity, but steady in its existence. Her face was lit with both pride and the faint glow of the light.

Even in the seriousness of the moment, all of the Weasley boys' jaws dropped in awe.

"Tell me you've found your wand, Hermione," Fred said, as the others seemed to be speechless. "Because if you didn't--you're as scary as Ron says you are."

"Damn, you're good!_"_ Ron said, realizing there was simply no wand involved.

Harry, recovering a bit from his dementor stupor, pushed himself up and joined the group in staring.

"I haven't practiced much, but I understand the theory. Remember when Lupin did it on the train? I'm going to try and get down the ladder with it now," Hermione said.

"Wait a minute--let me get over there just in case," Ron said, standing quickly, then bending over momentarily when he felt his head start to spin. He tried to stand upright again, walked haltingly to the door to close it, then waited at the bottom of the loft ladder.

Once Hermione descended safely to the floor, the search for the wands began anew. Hermione's light wasn't nearly as bright as a wand's would have been, but they all considered it ten times as spectacular. Still, the search throughout the cottage turned up nothing.

"Valeria must have the wands. What do we do now? We have no idea where they could be," Fred said.

"If she did take them, they're likely at the bottom of the cliff by now," George responded, sounding discouraged.

Then they heard the door latch jiggle.

The entire group realized just how vulnerable they felt without their magic. Even with Hermione's light, the room was still too dark for them to see exactly what might be coming through the door, and respond to it very quickly.

"Just grab something heavy and get ready to swing," Ron said, reaching for one of the wooden chairs and holding it aloft.

Fred and George followed suit with various pieces of furniture-- even Harry groggily grabbed a large chunk of firewood. They all faced the door, and waited.

The door latch jiggled again, until the lock came loose. The door swung ajar a few inches, then flew open as if it was soundly kicked. Though they tried hard to focus on what was rushing through the opening, it was still nearly impossible to see.

The boys stood back, trying to let Hermione's light shine on the doorway from behind them. Valeria came storming into the room with something hanging from her hand. They readied themselves to strike.

"Wait!" Ron said. "Don't do anything to her yet. See what she's holding. Just-- be ready in case."

The entire group squinted through the half-light at Valeria's hand.

"A bucket?" Harry said, finally able to see the object, but sounding confused.

Valeria seemed completely preoccupied with what she was doing, ignoring even Harry when he spoke. Once she had passed through the doorway, Ron and Fred, the two closest to the entrance, moved up to the doorframe. They still held their makeshift weapons above their heads until they were sure that nothing was following her through the door. But nothing did.

Closing and latching the door again, they turned in curiosity to Valeria, who seemed to have no interest in harming any of them just then. Mumbling and whispering to herself, she set the bucket down and began to shove furniture away from the largest wall.

As the tall girl stepped farther into the light, Hermione gasped.

Ron tried to see what caused her alarm, but when Valeria turned a bit, it was obvious.

Valeria's clothes and hands were covered with something dark and oozy. Little trails dripped down her body from the blackish patches that slopped down her front. Her hands were completely immersed in the dark, dribbly muck, and as she wiped at her face and hair, they became smeared with the slippery goo as well.

"Ron, what is that all over her?" Hermione asked carefully, seemingly afraid of what the answer might be.

"I--don't know. I just hope it's not what it looks like," Ron replied. Until this point, the four boys had still held their furniture and firewood weapons aloft, prepared to strike. But since Valeria seemed completely unaware of their existence, they felt at ease enough to drop the weapons down a little.

"Where would she get that much blood?" Harry asked, staring at the bucket.

Ron felt his stomach turn over at the thought, but knew he had to take a chance. "Valeria?" Ron said. But there was no response to his voice.

"I--will--tell--them," Valeria continued to whisper, moving her head from side to side stiffly, as if it hurt, or as if she were resisting something. "Can't --stop--me now."

Yanking her bed from the corner where it had been, Valeria pushed it against the largest wall, then grabbed the bucket and climbed on top of the bed. Walking back and forth across it, she started to scoop out handfuls of the glop in the bucket, rubbing it on the wall in some sort of pattern. Although they could not tell what she was doing in the dim light, they stood in nauseated silence and watched as she worked at her huge, morbid painting on the wall.

"Whatever else she's doing--whether that's blood or what-- we've _got_ to find those wands," Harry said.

"Valeria, can you hear me?" Ron tried again. "The wands we had--the sticks that do magic--did you have them?"

"Be my eyes..._be my eyes!--_he said--he told me--" she waved her arm at the door, "...aaggghhh!!" Valeria slumped over, holding her head with one arm and screaming, as if making the motion had caused her great pain. She had nearly dropped the bucket she was working from, but after a few minutes she forced her head up again, her face strained. The work on the wall creation continued.

"Does that mean they're outside?" George asked.

"It's all we've got," Ron whispered. "Hermione, walk over by the door--I'll come with you. We need to open it, and shine your light out there--see if we can find those wands." He hoped she'd be willing to cooperate with him since she'd still been angry when she went to bed, but she seemed able to put aside their differences at the moment.

"What if there's something else out there--that came with her?" Hermione asked.

Ron swallowed. He immediately thought of that foreboding sense of evil he'd felt in Valeria's mind. What if that evil thing was just outside their door?

"I don't know. There could be something. But our wands are out there, too. Without them, we're pretty much at the mercy of anything out there anyway." Ron motioned to Harry. He briefly thought about the little row he'd had with Harry, too, but compared to the mess they were in now, that situation had been laughable.

"Do you think she meant far outside?" Hermione asked.

"I have no idea. But we know they're not in here, and we've got to try."

Harry had moved next to Ron with his log weapon at the ready. "We're going for the wands, right?"

"Yeah."

"Probably our only chance," Harry said. "I'm going with you."

"I'm not letting you go out there as dementor bait," Ron said.

"_You're_ not letting me go out there? Well, I don't plan on being dementor bait sitting helpless in here, either," Harry insisted.

"Yeah, I reckon you're right." Ron smiled a little at Harry. "Hermione, I don't suppose you can pass that light on to me, can you?"

"I'm lucky to keep it going myself. It's okay, I'll go--with you," she said bravely, but the slight waver in her voice gave away her uncertainty. "But I won't be much help looking --this takes a bit of concentration."

"So, if you can't watch where you're going, can you hold onto one of us with one hand, and hold the light in the other?" Ron asked. He heard the soft, crackling sound that Hermione's light made as she moved up closer to him.

"Yes, I think so." Hermione tried to get a good hold on the back of Ron's shirt, but that didn't seem too secure with her bandaged hand, so she hooked two fingers through the back beltloop on his jeans.

"Harry, what's Valeria doing? Can you tell?" Ron questioned.

"The same thing. It seems like it doesn't even matter if it's dark--she's still working at the wall," Harry responded.

"Reckon that's a good thing for now." Ron looked to see that Fred and George were still focused on Valeria, ready to act if she made a move to do anything else.

"Fred--George-- be ready to swing those chairs if we come running back in here with something behind us," Ron said.

"Oh, now I feel better, Ron," Hermione said sarcastically.

Ron took a deep breath and let it out. "Let's go, then." He slowly unlatched and pulled open the door, just wide enough to lean through the doorframe. He looked outside to see what he could, and what he could see was--nothing.

"It's darker than a well-bottom at midnight out there. Oh, I don't like this too bloody much." He had swapped his chair weapon for a log like Harry's piece of firewood, as if it would do much harm to anything._ But maybe a good swift smack in the head would help_, he thought, _if it has a head. _Ron shivered at his own thought, and he decided not to let his two friends in on it.

The three of them crept outside, Hermione's light casting enormous shadows of Ron and Harry in front and behind them. They searched the immediate area around the cottage for ten minutes or so, finding not even one clue. But they were relieved that they hadn't found anything--else--in their search, either.

"This is hopeless. They could be anywhere," Hermione said, sounding tired from maintaining her light for so long.

Ron kept visually scouring the ground for signs. "Look--footprints!"

"Those could be from any one of us," Harry pointed out.

"Well, it's none of the three of ours--and they're too small to be from the twins," Ron reasoned. "Look--there are wet patches of--something--next to them. They have to be Valeria's."

Harry and Hermione finally agreed. The prints seemed to be leading to the creek, but they also ran perilously close to the edge of the cliffs.

"Ron, watch it by the cliffs--it's too dark," Harry warned.

The sudden screech of an owl in the distance sent chills through them all.

"If only that was a messenger owl..." Hermione said wistfully.

The ominous feeling that shivered its way through him reminded Ron of his nightmare. "I think we _have_ to go over there, Harry. I have a feeling we can't afford to wait until daylight to find those wands."

A sudden movement from out of the sky startled them all. In an instant, they looked up to see the light underside of a powerful set of wings coming at them. But more dangerous, by far, were the talons they saw coming ahead of the wings, seemingly aimed toward their faces.

Hermione's light wavered as she was taken by surprise, but once the light came back to its full force, the three friends could see that it was the owl, which had now passed and was winging its way out over the cliffs. They could tell it wasn't a messenger owl, as Hermione had hoped, but they were relieved it was nothing more dangerous than a night bird, either.

"We must have startled something out of hiding and the owl was hunting it," Harry said. "That owl's going to be rather upset that we kept it from its dinner. Hedwig would be chewing my ear right now."

A scurrying movement near the ground now absorbed their attention, and they heard something run under a shrub in a patch of bushes nearby.

Ron was leaning down, peering at the footprints that led near the bush. "Hermione, bring that light a bit closer. Look, there's a whole group of the footprints right here, as if she stopped and walked around here a bit." He squatted down to lift up the edge of the branches as they skirted the ground.

Something small shot from the back of the bush down the path toward the cliff.

Hermione held up the light so they could see what it was, but it was hard for them to believe it even once they actually saw it. Running at full speed across the dirt path toward the cliff's edge was a rat. And in its mouth--was a wand.

"Hey!!" Ron said, ready to sprint after the rat. But he realized just in time that if he built up any speed, he'd never be able to stop before falling over the cliff.

As all three of them jogged together behind the rat, they could follow him closely enough to see that the rat took the wand to the cliff's edge, and dropped it from its mouth over the precipice.

Even Hermione didn't take much offense at the string of profane words that spilled from Ron's mouth then.

"Miserable little piece of--I'm gonna catch that thing and throw_ it_ over, too!" Ron promised. He moved up on the rat, hemming it in by scrambling from side to side and holding out his arms. The rat had to choose between facing the wrath of Ron, and jumping from the cliff's edge behind him.

Trapped, the tiny animal stared up at the tall boy, its sides heaving.

Hermione moved closer to Ron and he moved closer to his prey. As the light made everything clearer, Ron found he was again having trouble believing what he was seeing.

"Harry--Hermione--look at this rat!" Ron said, squinting at the animal in the dim light. "He looks just like---"

Again, a whoosh of wings came at them from the sky. The owl had returned, obviously intending for the rat to be _his_ victim instead of Ron's. Ron jumped back just as the owl swooped nearly to the ground, barely missing both him and the rat.

The rat had taken advantage of the owl's diversion to make a run for it. It seemed as if the rodent thought it might elude not only the owl, but the furious red-haired human in front of it as well. It made one mighty leap toward the tufts of grass at the side of the path, but not before Ron made another astonishing discovery. Seeing the rat in mid-jump, Ron would have sworn he saw a glint of silver near its front foot.

"Did you see that? Did you _see_ that?!" Ron asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, he got away," Harry answered. "Stupid animal. Why would a rat bother with a wand?"

"No! No! Not that! Did you see the silver on its paw--when it jumped?" Ron asked.

Harry and Hermione looked at one another, then looked back at Ron and shook their heads.

"It had a silver foot--and the rat looked just like--like Scabbers!" Ron spluttered out.

Harry and Hermione glanced at one another quickly this time. They didn't look as if they believed him, and had other thoughts on their minds.

"Come on, Ron," Harry said. "We're all tired. Let's see if there's any hope for this wand." Harry and Hermione started to move carefully toward the edge of the cliff.

"No--it was! I really think it was! What other rat would throw a wand over a cliff?!" Ron insisted.

"Lots of rodents are hoarders, Ron," Hermione explained. "They carry things all over with them. I'm sure it didn't know it was throwing a wand off of a cliff."

It had been such a strange night, and he was so tired, that Ron began to doubt what he'd really seen himself. "I was sure it was, though," he said, less insistently.

"Ron--we've got wands to find, remember? And we've got to get back to the cottage. We've left your brothers there with Valeria--no telling what she's up to by now," Harry said.

Ron sighed. "Okay--you're right. But I still could have sworn..."

"Yes--you already have. Several times," Hermione mentioned. "I don't know how much longer I can keep this light going, either. It's rather tiring to do it."

The three friends walked cautiously toward the edge of the cliff, peering over the edge carefully. Luckily, the wand had caught on a small dead branch protruding from a narrow ledge in the rock wall.

"I can get it," Ron said. "Looks like it's Fred's." Ron lay down on his stomach and reached over the edge of the cliff, inching himself up closer when even his long arms couldn't reach. As he pushed more of his body over the edge, Harry and Hermione knelt down to hold onto one of Ron's legs each, just in case.

"Got it!" Ron said, grabbing it and holding the wand behind him until Harry took hold of it.

Harry stood once Ron was away from the edge, quickly held up the wand and said,_ "Lumos!" _Nothing happened.

Ron stood up as well, and dusted himself off. "Oh--here." He reached for the wand and waved it a little.

_"Even though Fred's not here now,  
It'll be okay--don't have a cow.  
If you know the words, things won't get worse:  
One day Fred will own the universe!!"  
_  
The wand made a little pop from the end, then Ron held it up and said,_ "Lumos!"  
_  
The wand lit immediately. "Dumb little Security Charm they put on their wands so people couldn't steal their Wizard Wheezes ideas. Heh--they don't even know _I _know."

Harry shook his head at the twins, even though they weren't there. "Okay, Hermione, you can put yours out now if you want to take a rest."

"I almost don't want to," Hermione said. "But I'm tired--I suppose I should. It was the first time I ever managed it."

"You did it when we needed it most, and it was pretty damned awesome," Ron said, smiling at her.

In spite of their differences earlier, Hermione gave him a cautious little smile and pushed her hands together, effectively cutting off the shimmering light. The absence of the crackling sound made it even quieter.

"Where do you suppose the rest of the wands are?" Hermione asked.

"I have a feeling..." Harry and Ron said together.

"The bush?" Ron asked.

"Let's go," Harry said in confirmation.

Using the brighter light from Fred's wand, they could move a bit faster. The three friends backtracked to the bush that they'd scared the rat from.

"Hope the little bugger didn't come back and move the rest of them, if they were ever here," Harry said.

Ron passed Fred's wand to Hermione to hold, then he and Harry knelt down in front of the bush where they'd stopped before. Ron lifted the bottom branches again while Hermione aimed the light so they could see.

"One, two, three--all four of them--right here," Harry said in relief. He passed Ron's and Hermione's wands to them, holding onto George's for later. "We'd better get back--it's been a while. Even your brothers don't deserve to deal with Valeria on their own for long."

"Yeah--let's go," Ron agreed. He and Harry took off at a brisk pace, but it took them a few steps to realize that Hermione was having trouble keeping up. They stopped and waited the few seconds it took her to catch up.

"I told you I was tired," she said.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron said, looping his arm through hers to help her walk faster, as did Harry on the other side. "Can't be waiting around for you all night."

Too weary to think of a snappy response, Hermione just rolled her eyes weakly and let her friends lead her back to the cottage.

Even though the three of them knew not to expect any light coming from the cottage, the sight of it in complete darkness chilled them to the core. No lights, no sounds--the eeriness caught at the insides of their throats. They could only hope all had gone well inside.

The crunching of the gravel underfoot made it certain that they would not be able to make a sneak approach. The door was closed, and as Ron pushed on it, he found that it was also latched.

A strange bird call came from inside the cottage.

Harry and Hermione looked at Ron, whose expression showed relief upon hearing the noise.

"It's okay," Ron said. "That's our signal--means the coast is clear and Mum's not around. They probably weren't completely sure it was us, so they tried that." Ron returned the identical bird call.

"Who is it?" Ron asked the door.

"Who do you think it is, the Fat Lady?" a voice responded.

"Okay, then, _Fred or George , _we've found the wands. Where's Valeria?" Ron asked.

"Still here somewhere, unless she Disapparated. Can't see her, of course, but nobody went through any of the doors or windows. Oh, and it's me," said the voice.

"Yeah--that helps," Ron said sarcastically. The twins knew full well that their voices were identical, too. "Come on--let us in!"

They heard the door unlatch from the inside. Harry, Hermione, and Ron piled through the door, then closed it quickly behind them.

It had been George who let them in, and he squinted in the light of the wand. Trying to get his eyes adjusted, he peered around the room.

"There she is," he said, pointing to Valeria. "She screamed bloody murder for five or ten minutes straight--sounded like something was killing her. I'm surprised you didn't hear. Quiet as a baby now, though, it seems."

Though she was barely visible in the light of the one wand, it was easy to tell that Valeria's body was rolled into a fetal position on the bed, her arms wrapped tightly around her head. She appeared to be either sleeping or unconscious.

They could not make out exactly what she'd drawn on the wall yet; still they could see that everything around her was covered in the dark liquid she'd used to create it. None of them felt the urge to venture nearer.

Ron and Harry started to quickly tell the twins about the recovery of the wands, now that Fred had joined them.

Hermione shivered. "I'll make a fire--it's freezing in here." Having to cross the room with her wand now alight, Hermione glanced at the wall as she passed. Doing a double take, she stopped dead in the middle of the room and held up her wand to be sure of what she was seeing. Her jaw dropped.

"Oh, my--," she choked out, sounding as if she were being strangled and staring at the wall.

Harry had been standing closest to her and heard her words. "Hermione, are you all right?"

Hermione just stared, pointing straight ahead, unable to say anything else.

Moving to join Hermione in the middle of the room, Ron and Harry lit their wands to illuminate the wall even further. But as Fred and George joined them, the entire group could do nothing but gape at the picture drawn there--there were no words to describe how they felt.

Though the medium Valeria had used for her artwork was dripping down the wall, and the picture was crudely drawn for lack of a brush or tool, there was no mistaking what the image was. On the wall, in the perfect proportions they'd seen before in the sky, was something that at once chilled and sickened them, making them feel mentally and emotionally overpowered immediately. For there behind Valeria's unconscious, motionless body, shone the Dark Mark.

"It wasn't just dementors, then," Ron finally said after what seemed like an hour of silence. "That's what it was--that's who I felt in her mind. She's been trying to tell us--you tried to tell me too, Harry. Bloody hell, Harry--what I felt in her mind-- is that how much evil you've been up against all this time?" It suddenly occurred to Ron what could make fifteen-year-old Harry look like he was fifty on some days.

Harry just stared solemnly at his best friend. The answer was in his eyes.

Hermione was shaking a bit as she spoke, and Ron sensed it wasn't just from the cold. "What are we going to do? Do you think he's here? Is Vol--You-Know-Who--- the one who's forcing her to try and take Harry away?"

"What do you think, Hermione?" Ron answered quietly. "But I know there are dementors involved, too. I think--" he swallowed before going on, "I think they're working together. They were together in Valeria's mind--I just didn't recognize--You-Know-Who like that. But I'm afraid we have another really big problem."

"Might as well go ahead and tell us," Fred said dully. "How much worse can it get?"

"Do you remember what Valeria was whispering in the dark earlier? She kept saying, 'Be my eyes' in that strange voice. I'm thinking that if Valeria can see Harry and knows he's here--right here--"

Hermione gasped and held her hand to her mouth.

Harry seemed to be the only one with the courage to say it out loud. "Then Voldemort knows I'm here, too. He _was_ the reason the Portkey wouldn't work. He's found some way to keep us--well, me--here."

"Don't worry, Harry. We'll think of something--he's not going to have you while we're still around," Hermione said bravely, though Ron suspected she sounded braver than she felt.

No one had anything else to add to that, even the twins.

Several more minutes of silence passed. No one paid attention to Valeria as she lay without moving on the bed. No one had even thought to check and see if she was breathing.

"What time do you have, Fred--in Muggle time?" Ron questioned.

Fred pushed up his shirtsleeve and angled his wrist several ways to see his watch in the light. "Ten after four. Why?"

"Because things never look as bad in the daylight, and they don't look very good right now. Still an hour and a half until sunrise," Ron said, privately wondering if they'd see the dawn at all.


	21. Daybreak

**~ Chapter 21 ~  
Daybreak**

She had slept fitfully the past few nights. Even when she knew she must have dozed off for awhile because an hour or two on the clock went missing, she didn't feel at all refreshed or rested when she awoke. In fact, she didn't feel like she had slept at all.

Rolling onto her side, her face became buried in the masses of her own wavy, copper-colored hair on the pillow and she had to lift her head to pull her hair away from her face with one hand. Most of the night she had spent tossing and turning in her four-poster, wondering, as were a number of people now waiting fretfully at Hogwarts, where some of the most beloved people in her world could be-her brothers, her friend Hermione, and-Harry.

Another thought of them didn't take her by surprise. But the depth of the voice in her mind did.

*Hey, Gin. I don't know if you're getting this. It's really weak and I have to push really hard-something's in the way. But I had to try.*

"Ron?" she said out loud, not caring a whit if she awoke one of her slumbering dorm mates. "Where are you?"

*Good, you are there. We're still in Ireland-can't tell where exactly-but we're by the ocean,* Ron's voice explained.

Ginny remembered how it felt when he had connected with her before, but this felt much, much weaker, and a bit surreal. She wasn't entirely sure if the voice was coming from Ron's connection with her, or if it was just a product of her own exhaustion and worry. Swinging between extremes of depression and wishful thinking for the third night in a row had worn down her sense of reality, and she wondered if her own psyche wasn't trying to send her words of comfort disguised in his voice. Soon it would be dawn-perhaps the line between reality and fantasy could then be drawn more definitively.

*Are you all right?* Ginny thought to him.

There was a very long pause. *What?*

The voice didn't even sound much like Ron's anymore-it must have been an hallucination, or a dream. She repeated her question. *Are you all right?*

Again the length of the pause unnerved her. *Yeah,* came the thought weakly, sounding very defeated. *We-miss you, Ginny-and everyone else, too. Tell them-tell them all-just in case...*

No, he wasn't all right. Something was very wrong. _Oh, please, please don't really be Ron,_ she found herself wishing, afraid to think anything to him and interrupt his thoughts flowing into her mind. _Because if you are-and you're saying what I think you're saying-_

As if speaking through a very thick fog in her mind, the voice made one valiant attempt to sound strong, but the poor connection weakened its valor. *Tell them all-we miss them...* And although the voice disintegrated before she actually heard the last seven words in her mind, she believed all her life that she'd felt them instead: _tell them all -that we love them_.

Now Ginny found herself feeling very afraid. Even though she knew and loved her brother well enough to realize that all of those feelings were always there inside of him, she knew just as well that he never, ever spoke about them in that way. It was so unlike Ron to say that he missed or loved his family at his age (even though it was more than evident that he did); he might as well have been running a red distress flag up the pole.

Ginny shoved her hand across her face, the tears that she pushed away replaced in an instant by rivulets of more racing down her cheeks._ What do I do?_ she thought. _What if that really wasn't Ron connecting with me? Should I tell the Grangers and Sirius, and worst of all, the rest of my family, what I 'thought' I just heard Ron say? What if I put them through all that, then the whole group turns out to be fine?_

All of her closest friends and confidantes were among those who were lost. Who could she talk to about this? Ginny felt the weight of her own loss fall upon her.

Just then the alternative launched itself into her brain. How much worse would it be if she didn't mention anything to anyone, and it turned out that what she'd just heard from Ron was really "goodbye"?

# # #

Around the edge of the cloth covering the window, a fine line of deep gray morning light became noticeable. It wasn't much to go on, but it made Ron feel better, all the same.

Nothing had happened. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but something told him that if they made it until daybreak, that everything would be all right-at least maybe they'd have a chance.

The dark mood, the fear pressing in on them, the inability to think of any way to improve their situation, had pushed each of them into a somber, silent place within themselves. The five of them had been sitting for some time, staring into their laps or at the floor, but avoiding each other's eyes. They especially avoided even a glance toward the wall where the reddish substance was starting to dry into grotesque colors befitting the Dark Mark that was drawn there.

At one point, the urgency of their situation had prompted the twins to begin discussing the Portkey again, and they had gone as far as to get it from Fred's rucksack. But their post-panic fatigue after the incident with Valeria, and the Mark glaring at them from the wall caused them to apathetically drop the orange fishing hat to the floor, and dully leave it there.

The thought of using his telempathy to reach Ginny had been eating away at Ron as they all sat contemplating their future-but now their situation felt more desperate than it ever had before. He knew he had to try.

The telempathic connection still hadn't seemed to work very well-it had been so weak that it felt more like a dream. Something was still blocking his way-but this time it hadn't been able to block him out entirely. He'd told Ginny what he'd been feeling at the time-he wanted their families to know that his brothers and friends in Ireland hadn't been off playing some silly game, but had been trying diligently to get home with what little they had to use. He wanted them all to know... just in case something happened.

Valeria was stirring for the first time since Ron, Harry, and Hermione had arrived back at the cottage with the wands. Ron looked around at the others, who hadn't seemed to notice. He grasped his wand inside his robe pocket, and watched the girl sitting under the Dark Mark carefully.

Pushing herself from the bed with her arms, Valeria sat and blinked uncertainly, trying to focus on everything surrounding her. Grabbing at her shirt as she looked down, she gasped. She finally noticed her painted clothes and body, yet was unable to understand how any of it had occurred.

Unaware that anyone was watching her, Valeria turned on her bed, visually following the trail of reddish goo to the wall. Her eyes climbed from the bed upwards and her face went pale. Once she had taken in all that the image on the wall symbolized, she clapped one hand over her mouth in horror. There was no doubt that she realized it was she who had drawn it there.

Still staring in terrified awe, Valeria rolled onto her knees and crawled backwards off of the bed, kicking over the bucket of the leftover substance she'd used as paint. She was unable to ignore her own curiosity as to what was covering everything, including her. She reached down and dipped two fingers into some of the spilled stuff, first rubbing it between her fingers, then bringing it to her nose.

Ron thought he could see a slight expression of relief on her face, though he couldn't imagine why. Anyone who was relieved to find themselves covered in blood had to be completely mental.

Feeling his eyes on her, Valeria turned to face them all, though Ron was the only one watching her directly. She seemed to register the suspicion in his gaze.

"It's mud," she said quietly, the sound of a voice startling the rest of them out of their stupor. A tiny, fleeting, embarrassed smile crossed her face. "The reddish stuff from the riverbank-it's only mud."

Ron looked a bit relieved himself. "But that doesn't change what you painted with it." He looked back at the wall briefly, and she followed his gaze with her eyes.

The twins, Harry, and Hermione were now joining in listening to the conversation with guarded interest, slipping their hands onto their wands inside of their robes, as well.

The dark-haired girl now realized that they were all focused on her. She pointed back at the wall as she faced them. "I had to let you know some way. He wouldn't let me tell you. I had to let you know what you're all up against-especially you-Harry..."

Ron noticed that Harry looked drawn and haggard, as if he'd aged once more. Aside from that, it was difficult to tell from the outside that anything was even bothering Harry. But Ron knew what kind of anguish was tearing at his best friend from within.

"So Voldemort _is_back again, is he?" Harry asked calmly, almost eerily so. "Found his way out of the mountains all right, it seems."

Valeria suddenly appeared to think of something and gasped again. "It's still dark, isn't it? It's still night?" She glanced toward the windows, but before she could register that there was now a slightly brighter edge of light around the window cloths, Ron answered.

"No, it's daybreak. The sun will be up soon," he said.

"Oh, no- then it's time. It's why they woke me," she said, suddenly shaking and panicked. "Look-look outside-toward those big rocks where you stayed! _Now!"  
_  
"Why?" Ron asked slowly and suspiciously. She didn't seem to be possessed by the dementors at the moment, but he still wasn't ready to trust her with his back turned. Something about the way she looked made him think of his earlier nightmare. "Are the dementors coming-in your mind?" He had another sickening thought. "Or is it-?"

"You'll see -go-please-" Valeria begged.

Ron looked at Harry and they both stood, wands out. "Stay ready in case she does anything-especially if she goes after Harry," Ron told his brothers, nodding at Valeria.

Valeria sat wide-eyed as Ron glanced at her quickly. He wasn't certain how she'd react to knowing he was so distrustful of her-but she seemed to understand why he would say such a thing.

Hermione continued to sit in worn silence, tensing as she watched her two best friends stand and prepare their wands. Though she ordinarily would have joined them, creating the wandless light had exhausted her-she'd only managed a few minutes of sleep and little real rest since then.

Harry and Ron walked through the door and into the chilly morning air. They turned together to look up the hill toward the cluster of enormous white granite boulders-and what they saw there struck dread into their hearts.

In the deep gray stillness of the morning, the granite reflected what little light there was and the light stone faces stood out against the darkened hillside. But the dark of the hillside could not compare with the blackness of the tall, eerie forms that stood on the boulders, their intimidating outlines in stark contrast to the white of the rocks. Their tattered robes blew lightly in the early morning breeze, as they appeared to be waiting patiently for a sign.

There had to be ten of them or more, though it was difficult to visually separate one dementor from the next. Like dark angels of death, they stood nearly motionless, the gaping holes in the hoods of their black cloaks all focused in the same direction-toward the little stone cottage there below them.

Ron's mouth went dry immediately, and he was guessing Harry's had, too. He had to swallow twice to even speak.

"You don't suppose they're just watching us, do you?" Ron said tensely without taking his eyes from the black-cloaked group.

"I don't think so," Harry said solemnly, also staring at them, transfixed.

The standoff continued in silence for another minute or two.

"Do you think they'll stay up there if we don't back down?" Ron asked.

Harry paused before replying. "I really don't think so."

As if the dementors had heard his words, the evil-looking black forms on the rocks began to squirm and move, the few nearest the outside of the group beginning to float from the ground.

Harry and Ron went pale as they watched in horror, because another fifteen seconds gave them the answer they had dreaded. Ever so slowly, but very determinedly, the black-cloaked figures started to float down the trail toward the cottage.

The dementors, themselves, were coming.

Taking one last glance at each other, the two boys rushed into the cottage.

"They're coming-the dementors are coming-here," Harry tried to say calmly.

"Was there anything-?" Hermione began, having to stop and swallow, "Anyone-else?"

"No, not that we could see. Not-yet," Harry responded, apparently trying not to become absorbed in the true meaning of those words. "Fred, George-have you two ever cast a Patronus?"

Fred and George looked at each other. "We studied the theory, but we never got in any real practice," George said.

"The Defense Against the Dark Arts professors always made it extra credit to try and come up with one," Fred explained.

"And naturally, you guys were too busy," Ron said accusingly.

"Look who's talking, Ron!" Fred complained. "When did you ever-"

Hermione suddenly stood up, throwing off her weariness to interrupt. "Gentlemen, those are real dementors out there-and they're coming here _now_. You can discuss who's teacher's pet later!" Hermione said tensely. "What do you think we should do, Harry? You're as close as we've got to an expert on dementors here."

"I think we should try and take them on outside. That way we aren't as likely to get trapped," Harry said. "Plus they'd get through the windows anyway."

"But Harry-maybe you should stay in here and we'll protect the door-" Ron started.

"Are you mad, Ron?" Harry interrupted. "Unless you can conjure one up, I may be the only one here who can cast a Patronus-_if _I'm that lucky-and you think I should be sitting here inside? You can forget that!"

"But you're the one they want, Harry!" Hermione said.

"And they're dementors, Harry-you know what they do to you," Ron reminded.

Harry set his mouth in the stubborn way his friends had seen many times before. "I'm going out there with you-that's all there is to it."

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. They both knew the discussion about protecting Harry was over. But seeing into Hermione's eyes brought a different thought to Ron as well.

"Hermione-maybe you should stay in the cottage and guard Valeria, since it doesn't look like the dementors are in her mind now, just outside. That way you'll be sa-" Ron stopped himself mid-word and turned away, hoping that if she couldn't see his face, she wouldn't be able to read from it what he had almost said.

"That way I'll be-what?" Hermione said, narrowing her eyes.

Ron slowly turned back to face her. _Bloody hell-I thought maybe she'd got past being angry with me. Guess not. Well-might as well dive right in with it then-maybe if she sees that I only want to protect her- _Ron took a deep breath and moved closer to speak softly to Hermione so that everyone wasn't privy to the conversation. "Look, I know that you're really tired from casting the Light Spell, and I just thought maybe it would be better for you to stay-"

"Stop it, Ron!" Hermione said loudly, causing Ron to blink in surprise and pull back from her.

Startled, everyone turned to look at the girl with fire in her eyes, but she didn't seem to care.

"How dare you!" Hermione said, stepping up in Ron's face. "How dare you think that just because we-we-" she looked around at the other faces aimed in her direction. She glanced down for a moment and began to blink rapidly, then looked up again and continued forcefully. "You have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do! I'll be out there with my life on the line just like the rest of you!"

Hermione tossed her head and walked to wait by the door, wand at the ready.

"Is _Expecto Patronum!_the only spell that works against dementors?" George asked.

"If you blast away at them-you might be able to stall them-as long as you keep at it," Harry said.

George looked at his twin with a darkly sarcastic expression. "Oh, this sounds good."

"We'll need to keep them in a group when they come. Even if only one slips away, that can be the one who sneaks up on you from behind," Harry advised. "And as you already know, it only takes one."

"I don't know if it helps any, Harry. But I don't think the dementors will kill you," Valeria said.

Harry snorted. "I know. Voldemort's got bigger plans for me. How lucky can I get?"

Ron realized they'd have to do something about Valeria. "You'll just have to stay out of the way-in here, I reckon."

Valeria looked a bit dazed by it all. "Ron, I think you'd better make sure they don't make me help them. I guess the dementors did something to stop that Leg-Locker thing."

"It wasn't the dementors, they can't do magic. The only one in your mind to know the countercurse would have been-," Ron stopped as the realization came to him who they were actually dealing with and who had undone the very curse he'd cast the night before. "But you're right-it didn't work."

"Do you have anything to tie me up with, then? Otherwise, they might take me over, and make me attack you from behind. It's the only thing I can think of to do."

Ron didn't have time to worry about Valeria, but he felt an instant of sadness for her; it had to be hard for her to tell others to restrain her because she had no control over her own actions. She may not have been able to banish the dementors from her mind, but for a Muggle who'd been thrown into the ugliest part of the magical world, she had shown some remarkable spirit.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked Valeria.

She nodded.

"George, tie Valeria to that beam over there," Ron said, pointing at the thick post that was part of the stone room divider.

"Ron, I don't want to be inside. I don't want to be hiding. You're all going to fight them, aren't you? Let me show them I can fight them too-please?" Valeria requested. "I still want you to tie me up because I'm afraid of what they might make me do to you. But I want them to see that I'm not afraid of them. Not anymore."

Ron closed his mouth, which had fallen open slightly, and stared a moment at this new Valeria. He answered quietly. "Right then. There's a tree out there. The dementors are coming from the opposite direction right now, and that will put us between you and the dementors. But I'm not sure how well we can protect you-we may not do very well ourselves."

"You're the only friends I've ever had, and even if I can't help you in any way, at least I'll be out there with you. Then if something happens and you don't make it, I'll just end up going with you. At least I won't die alone," she said with the courage of someone who had faced down death before.

Ron felt his eyes get warm and tingly a moment, but he forced himself to ignore it; he knew they were running short on time. "Erm, okay. Outside, then," Ron said.

The six of them piled out of the door into the brightening morning light.

"I'll take care of tying up Valeria," Fred offered, preparing to swish some magical ropes out of his wand.

George shoved his way in front of his twin to get next to the dark-haired girl. "The hell you will!" George said in a strange, determined sort of voice. He gently guided Valeria to the tree by her elbow, then moved closer to tie her hands carefully, yet firmly together around the trunk.

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Fred looked up the hill and found the dementors had already closed the distance from the granite outcropping by half. Another minute and the gruesome beings would be close enough to start affecting the psyches of the teenagers, making them feel depressed, hopeless, and defeated.

The five friends tried to prepare themselves for the bad feelings that would pour in on them. But their senses of logic told them this was an uphill battle even before the first dementor came near. They were already outnumbered and sensing they were ill-equipped to cope with the power of the dementors even using their magic. They were feeling ever so young and inexperienced.

Attempting to fight the rising tide of fear and insecurity in himself, Ron realized that the dementor's attack had really begun hours ago. The more powerful element of their assault had been the simple act of letting the fear and despair seep into the five friends as they contemplated what the dementors and Voldemort would do to them and the rest of their world. Those thoughts served to eat away at their courage and muddle their minds far more effectively even than watching the dementors themselves glide down the trail-that move was only the final blow.

Grim looks on their faces, the four friends spread out around the front of the cottage with Harry in the center of the group. George finally lined up with them against their oncoming opponents. They couldn't afford for any of the dementors to work their way around behind them and get close. They all knew that for dementors, close was good enough.

"How many of them do you think there are?" George asked.

"I don't know," Ron answered. "But we'd better count when they get closer. We'll have to keep track of all of them."

From the outset, it was easy to tell that the dementors were focused on Harry. The queue coming down the path was the most concentrated in the center, their nucleus aimed directly toward The Boy Who Lived.

Ron watched the tall black cloaks approaching. Flashing rapidly through his mind were all of the fears he'd been dealing with since this had all started half a year ago: the connection with Ginny in Snape's class; that first dementor he'd felt with her and Malfoy in the library; Valeria as 'the screamer'. He remembered his poor luck with a Patronus, even if his telempathy had eventually taken care of the boggart.

But the practice sessions were long ago and far away. This was real. Ron glanced quickly at Harry, who was the only one standing with the solid and determined look of a seasoned warrior on his face. Harry had been here before-he'd already tasted evil like this many times-in fact, dementors held only a fraction of the Darkness Harry had been forced to deal with in his young life. Though obviously reluctant, Ron could tell his friend was setting himself to cast his Patronus: wand poised-concentrating-jaw set.

"Ugly bastards, aren't they?" Fred asked anyone who would answer. No one did.

In the face of the oncoming struggle, the teenagers clung desperately to their sense of self, their confidence and their hope. In truth, those were the only real weapons they had.

Ron began to feel the sadness nibbling at his mind; the dementor sickness was starting. It made him wish he was at home in the Burrow, safe under his parents' roof. He began to doubt himself, almost wishing he had never left home. The blackness and despair grew deeper with every foot the dementors gained.

Not far from him, Ron heard Hermione begin to chant quietly. Fred and George joined in with their own separate incantations several moments later. The battle had begun.

_"Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!" _Harry chanted next to Ron. Out of the corner of his eye, Ron could see the beginning of a silver glimmer from the end of Harry's wand.

The dementors were within one hundred feet now.

"How many do you get?" Ron asked George, counting.

"Eleven."

"Me, too."

Ron looked toward Hermione, who was standing with wand poised. She was too far away for him to read her lips from the side, but if her concentration was any indication, her curses should hold strong-if they could just hold out for Harry's Patronus!

_Where's your Patronus, Weasley? You've at least got to try! _The weight of the sadness on him told him he'd better start now, before it was too late. _Good thoughts, _he told himself. _Good thoughts! Being sixteen, Hermione, the Quidditch team, smacking Malfoy in the face-one punch after another!_

Ron's concentration on his spell stopped him from paying as much attention to what was going on around him. _Helping Valeria-being a telempath and -I'm only one of a few!..._

Using a Banishing Charm, George was having some luck repeatedly setting two or three dementors back a few steps when they got too close, but Ron knew that all his brother could do with the spell was buy some time.

Fred cast a Hex-Deflection Curse, hoping it would protect him a bit from the feelings the dementors created in him. That failing to help, he was now experimenting with _"Impedimenta!"_, flying pieces of firewood into the paths of the dementors. It was working for the moment, but again, all it would do is buy time.

Hermione's Obliviate Spell confused the dementors for a few minutes at a time. As it changed and erased their memories, they would stop, bewildered, while she tried to work on her first Patronus long enough to pull one together. But it seemed that the dementors had some sort of collective consciousness that replaced the memories after a short while, so that they remembered their goal again far too soon.

Ron watched a silvery wisp trail from the end of his own wand. _It's working! Come on, good thoughts! "Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!" _he chanted.

Next to him, Ron watched Harry focus on his stag Patronus as it began to emerge from his wand, but Ron saw he was having trouble. The dementors were too close, and the sickness always got to Harry first. Ron prayed that his friend hadn't waited too late to start his spell._  
_  
Ron's excitement at the creation of his own Patronus was weakened by the realization that Harry might not pull through with his. The silvery form at the end of his friend's wand stopped growing, beginning to look limp and lifeless. Ron could feel his blood turn cold-Harry's silver stag Patronus was the heart of their hope.

Without breaking his concentration, Ron tried to see how bad things were becoming. Hermione was shaking her head, apparently trying to clear it. His brothers were doing the same. The dementor sickness was getting to them.

The three dementors that George had been battling were catching on to the Banishing Spell-they moved forward faster during the times that the spell wasn't setting them back, gaining ground toward George each time they broke through. They'd given up on pursuing Harry for the moment, intent on ridding their path of George first.

Something caught Ron's attention from the corner of his eye and he looked skyward in time to see several pieces of firewood that Fred had fired at the dementors flying back toward him and his brother.

"Fred! Get back!" he shouted. Ron jumped out of the way of two, but a third caught his left arm, a sharp branch stub slicing through his shirt and into his shoulder.

Glancing quickly at his own oozing injury, Ron heard a sickening thud. He looked to his side to see Fred stagger, blink, then return to his chanting, looking bleary-eyed and dazed, but fighting on nonetheless. A large chunk of firewood lay on the ground next to his brother's foot-Ron couldn't even afford the time to stop and see the blood running from the nasty gash above Fred's left eye.

_Dementors can't do that! How did that wood come flying back at us? It couldn't be-  
_Ron squinted into the woods at the side of the trail in time to see the shadow of a short figure as it dashed behind a tree, the figure flashing a quick glint of silver in the emerging sun. It certainly wasn't a dementor, but it didn't look impressive enough to be You-Know-Who either, or at least what he knew of him from what Harry had told him.

As he swung his head to the left to look for the figure in the woods, he heard Hermione's frantic shout.

"Ron-nine!" Hermione called out quickly, maintaining her focus straight ahead at her own dementor opponents.

"What?" he said.

"Nine-only nine are there-where are the other two?"

Ron took a deep breath and looked around himself frantically._ Oh, gods, no! _He'd have to work on his Patronus later. If he didn't find those two dementors before they found Harry, anything the rest of them did might be useless anyway.

_The missing dementors could be with Valeria, but it doesn't look promising,_Ron thought. She was standing next to her tree, still tied up. She appeared to be pleading with someone, although no one was visible nearby. He couldn't tell if the two dementors had gone to invade her mind or not, but she didn't look yet like she was struggling to get free.

_Where the bloody hell could they __**be**__? _Ron thought frantically.

Then, in an instant, Harry slid to the ground. Two dementors, their cloaks still sliding from the sills of the cottage windows a short distance behind Harry, were nearly upon him. Wood from the pile had rolled down on Harry from behind, knocking his feet out from under him.

Harry's Patronus had disappeared. Ron could feel the dementors take heart in its departure and in Harry's fall. He could hear Hermione and his brothers pick up the speed and urgency of their chanting in response to the dementors, who were now closing in faster and with more confidence. The black-cloaked beasts started to make gurgling, squeaking noises in their eager anticipation of feeding hungrily upon the young, fresh, spirited teenage souls. Though the dementors might have known that Potter and the black-haired girl were off-limits, the other four were up for grabs, and each dementor looked anxious to make sure they were the first to get their share.

Ron felt the terror pouring in on him, on top of the despair and the black feelings of defeat. He wasn't going to be able to save them-they weren't going to be able to save themselves. He was only sixteen, and he was going to die.

But then he felt something familiar-something strangely comforting.

Ron felt rage-the same rage that had caused him such misery with others, the same that had put him in heaps of trouble at home and school, the same rage that had nearly caused him to lose some of the most precious things in his life. But it felt _good_-it was _his_rage-he possessed it and knew how to use it-and he knew it was going to give him the will to fight now.

The adrenaline raced through his veins, helping to clear Ron's mind a little. _I'll be damned if I'm going to let these bloody monsters do anything to my friends and family!_

He rushed to Harry, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him to his feet. Harry's head lolled from side to side-the dementor sickness really had hold of him now.

Struggling to hold Harry up with one arm wrapped around his friend's chest, Ron turned to the two approaching dementors, pointing his wand directly at them. "Come on, you bastards! Come and get me! You're not getting him until you've sucked my soul dry first!"

The two dementors slowed their forward movement and floated from side to side, their empty hoods pointed toward Ron and Harry. They weren't leaving, but they weren't coming any nearer either.

"Come on!" Ron shouted, flicking his wand at them to urge them into taking on his spell. _Whatever that might end up being, _he thought uncertainly.

The wariness of the dementors gave Ron a split second to think about Harry. He glanced into his best friend's face, only inches away. He could tell Harry was fighting to come to the surface, but he was drowning in the dementor sickness. Ron shuddered to think what Harry was hearing right now-his mother's screams, his father's shouts, Voldemort laughing evilly. "Come on, Harry," Ron pleaded quietly in Harry's ear. "Good thoughts. Find them-they're in there."

Then it hit him. _OF COURSE! _

He remembered Hermione's spell. Pointing his wand at each of the two rotting creatures in turn, he shouted,_ "Obliviate!"_

The two dementors became disoriented, drifting a few feet here and there, but they were no longer focused on Ron and Harry for the moment. Glancing behind him swiftly, Ron could see his brothers and Hermione looking worried, but still fending off the other nine dementors nonetheless.

"Keep fighting! We're not done yet!" Ron shouted encouragingly.

Knowing he had only a few minutes, Ron took deep breaths, forcing himself to close his eyes and concentrate. He'd been there before, and it wouldn't be pretty going in, but he _had_to find Harry's mind.

Able to hear the sounds of an attack going on in the distance, screaming and shouting, evil laughter, a baby calling his mother, Ron thought he'd better start trying from here. He couldn't see, but could feel a black cloud growing in the distance, enveloping all that was good and positive in Harry's mind, trying to snuff out any good feelings as if they were candles in some dark night.

_*Harry! I'm here-you're not alone. We'll fight together-there are good thoughts in here-you know it, too. Think of Sirius-he's waiting for you-you're going to live with him soon-think how great that will be! You have friends who love you, and you know you're an adopted Weasley-Mum and Dad would kill me if I left you here!"_*

_*Ron?*_Harry thought groggily to him.

_It's working!-At least he knows I'm here!_

_*Which way are you-can't find you-* _

_*Stay there-I'll find __**you,**_* Ron thought back. He was going to have to get closer to all those horrible things in Harry's mind for his friend to feel his presence, but Ron knew what he had to do before he tried. Glancing at his brothers and Hermione still fighting ever more feebly with the other dementors, the rage returned at full-force in him once more. The adrenaline gave him the strength and the courage to go further.

_*We're still fighting them, Harry. But we can't go on much longer without you. We need you, mate!* _Ron moved closer to the darkness and evil that he could feel in his friend's mind. The dark cloud no longer felt like it was growing, though.

_*Remember all the great things we've done together? Remember when we had to fly the Ford Anglia to get to Hogwarts? Then we landed in the Whomping Willow and all, but remember how wicked everyone else thought it was when we did it?*_

Harry grunted a little in response.  
_  
*Remember when we managed to save Sirius and Buckbeak, all of us together-and get them both out of Hogwarts to safety?*  
_  
Harry opened his eyes wearily. _*Yeah,*_ he thought. _*That was pretty great.*  
_  
The excitement of seeing Harry awake again caused the adrenaline rush to swell in Ron even stronger. He could barely feel the dementor sickness in himself now-and bringing back Harry was feeling so good that the Darkness didn't stand a chance. *_The second task-remember the second task? We saved Fleur's little sister together-well, I sort of helped-a little-_*

Harry gave a little snort and Ron felt his friend take some of his own weight onto his legs. From this close, Ron almost thought he saw the corner of Harry's mouth tilt up a centimeter. *_Yeah, right-a very little_.*

_Yaahaa! Harry's back!_

*Crikey, Ron!*

Harry complained in his mind._*Yeah, I'm here. Stop shouting so loud-my head!*_

*Okay, okay-but we need you, mate. Think I can help you with that Patronus? You do the spell, I'll push the good thoughts-we'll blast these bloody bastards back to You-Know-Who- in pieces, if I have anything to do with it! Ready?*

*Let's do it.*

Still unsure as to whether Harry was ready to stand fully on his own, Ron left his arm behind Harry's back to stabilize him, but he turned both of their bodies to face the two closest dementors. The Obliviate Spell Ron had done earlier was beginning to wear off, and the dementors were acting as if they remembered exactly why they were supposed to be there.

"I'm going to say it out loud now," Ron said. "Maybe it'll help Hermione and the twins. But I'm not leaving your mind until these-things-are out of here. What shall we blow these two away with? Quidditch?"

"Why not?" Harry said quietly but firmly, just before he pointed his wand straight at the two dementors who were moving closer again. He began to chant_ "Expecto Patronum!"_once more.

Ron could feel that Harry was encouraged just because the two of them were together. They were both becoming more confident that Harry's strength was returning, which increased the good feelings in them both, which made them stronger against the dementors. The cycle was going_ their_way now-the momentum had changed.

"Remember when the Slytherins thought they were winning the whole game since they'd stayed ahead by ten all day, then you went and grabbed the Snitch right out from under Malfoy's nose?" Ron pointed his wand at the dementors as well, wondering if it would help focus the power of their dual thoughts at all.

Just after Ron's hand went up, Harry's wand hand began to shake as he held it in front of him. A wisp of silver began to smolder from the end of Harry's wand, weaving itself into thicker and thicker threads, winding and twisting into the beginning of the Patronus itself.

Harry and Ron didn't break their concentration on what they were doing, but the connection made them aware that they were wondering why his hand was shaking. That had only happened once before-when Harry's wand was locked with Voldemort's. This shaking was different in a good way-it was the fusion of Ron's and Harry's strength causing it now-but Harry's instant recollection of the struggle with Voldemort reminded them both of the gravity of their situation.

The two dementors stopped floating forward, and their hoods began to turn away, as if they had to force themselves to face something that was coming from Harry and Ron's direction. The black-cloaked beings started to move from side to side again in frustration, but began to act oddly, as if they wanted to abandon the whole idea of moving in on the two boys.

Ron kept talking, Harry kept chanting.

*Can you walk?* Ron thought to Harry in between his lists of good thoughts.

Without missing a syllable of his chant Harry thought back to him. *Yeah.*

The two of them took a step together, moving closer to the dementors. The dementors just as quickly swung away. Acknowledging to each other in their minds that that was quite wicked, Harry and Ron took another step. The dementors floated away twice as far as they'd gone before.

Ron glanced behind him to see who was having the most trouble fending off the other dementors. George, Fred, and Hermione all looked equally worn, weak, and sick. But Ron knew whose mind, together with his and Harry's, would make the three of them feel invincible.

*Keep the good thoughts flowing, Harry. If nothing else, think of how scared we've got these two. I'll be back in a few seconds-I'm going for Hermione,* Ron thought.

Finding her was easy-there were lots of emotions there to work with: fear, hatred, anger, frustration. Watching her from a distance as he found and entered her mind, Ron saw Hermione flinch physically. Her concentration on what she was doing was so strong that she was very sensitive to any changes at all, inside or out. Within her mind, the dementors were slowly winning with their despair, but she was pushing them away with all her might, even if she knew it was a losing battle. Ron watched her for an instant as she resisted them bravely and strongly, fighting as much with her will and her courage as with her spells.

_No wonder the Sorting Hat made you a Gryffindor, Hermione! _he thought. _You'd never give in- they'd have to fight you to the bitter end. Gods, you're amazing!_

And Ron decided _that_would be the first good thought he'd send into her mind.

*You-are just-* Ron started, before realizing that what he felt for her right now was even too powerful for him to describe inside the connection. *You should feel it yourself-there are no words to tell you how you look to me right now, but-feel this.*

Ron let some of what he was feeling spill forth and out of his mind into hers. He couldn't possibly have explained it, and was so thankful for the connection that let her experience it for herself. If they never got out of this alive-at least she'd know once how deeply he cared for her.

Even through her concentration straight ahead and on the spell that was keeping the dementors at bay, Hermione's mouth fell open slightly as she took in a sharp breath of air and shivered. Her eyes opened wide as she felt the power of the emotion Ron was sending her. It was easy to tell that his feeling had strengthened her-she stood straighter and acted less weary immediately.

*Now you know better why you're fighting so hard-because that's part of what you and I are fighting for,* Ron said. *Harry and I are coming your way-watch for the dementors behind you-we're chasing them back to the others,* Ron thought.

*They're moving-away-from you?* Hermione thought to him in surprise. The three dementors in front of her were alternately trying to find a space to move in closer. She had been unable to see any of what had happened after Harry fell.

*Yep-he's bringing the Patronus-I'm bringing the good thoughts- we're bouncing these black-hooded monsters back where they came from. Just a second-* Ron paused a moment, *-okay, we're all three connected now. They were much more afraid of our good thoughts with two of us, Hermione-think what it'll be with three. Help us think of all the great stuff we've done together. Ha- these dementors don't stand a chance!*

*Like when it took all three of us to figure out how to find the Sorceror's Stone? But we did it anyway-and we were only first years!* Hermione thought to them.

*Exactly-that's it, Hermione! Keep going! Harry's chanting-he can't talk-but I don't think his Patronus is far away!* Ron thought. He looked in front of him at the glistening silver figure emanating from Harry's wand. It was now over half the size of both of them together, the proud antlers and powerful forequarters of the mighty stag were taking shape.

"Ready, Harry?"

Harry was strong enough to stand and walk on his own by now, but Ron left his hand on Harry's shoulder. It was easier to keep the wands focused that way, and, even though Ron's wand was not contributing to the Patronus directly, it seemed to add strength to Harry's wand because they were focused on fighting the dementors together. Harry nodded to Ron.

*Then let's chase these ruddy black beasties back to their flock,* Ron said.

Moving first in tentative steps toward the two dementors near them, Harry and Ron picked up speed and length in their steps as the dementors began to float in the opposite direction. At first the dementors still faced them and moved backwards, but as they became more intimidated by the emerging Patronus, and the two wands pointed at them in unison, they turned their backs and began to hurry away even more quickly.

Guiding the two dementors by moving their wands, Harry and Ron pushed the two dementors around Hermione and circled them into a group with the other three in front of her.

"Touch Harry, Hermione," Ron said. "Focus your wand with ours."

Harry swung around so that he was between Ron and Hermione.

Hermione felt confident enough to take her eyes from the dementors in front of her for the first time since she'd begun to fend them off. She glanced into Ron's face, then Harry's, then hooked her arm through Harry's as she pointed her wand straight ahead.

"You don't know how good it is to see you two," Hermione said to both of them, giving a little sigh of relief.

Now that the three of them were together, it felt almost certain that everything was going to be all right.

"Let's trade off-good thoughts, then helping Harry," Ron said. For some reason, just hearing one another's voices felt pretty good, too. "On with the good thoughts-have one, Hermione?"

"Ah, yes-summer at the Burrow," she offered. As the three of them thought about all of the great times they'd had at Ron's home in the summer, they started to chant in time with Harry.

The three voices mingled with one another as they spoke out, _"Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!"_

Harry's wand hand started shaking so violently that it was difficult for him to hold it steady. Ron and Hermione pushed their own outstretched wand hands up against his to help him hold it still between theirs.

Instantly, in a blinding flash of light that gave them spots before their eyes, a glowing silver-white animal sprang from Harry's wand, landing firmly on its feet before the five dementors.

Muscles rippling through its shimmering body, the stag stood at attention. It stared for a minute at the stunned dementors with disdain, as if their sort of life form had no business existing in the same world with the stag itself, or with the teenagers standing behind him. Pawing the ground restlessly with a hoof of opalescent light, the stag lowered its impressive set of antlers and charged.

The dementors moved about nervously within their group, wondering who would break and run first. It turned out that they all started to float away quickly at the same time, their movements becoming more animalistic as they picked up speed to avoid what appeared to be the power of an oncoming train.

As the ground shook beneath the hoof beats of the stag, the animal reached the slowest dementor of the group, tangling the figure's robes in its antlers. The stag bowed lower and scooped the dementor's body into the crook of the set of vicious points. Lifting its mighty head and tossing it, the dementor was thrown into the air, falling some feet away and well into the middle of another group of three dementors that had been trying to overcome Fred.

The four dementors scrambling from near the ground by Fred seemed to communicate with one another in some way, then moved quickly away. Their path took them near the last group of three who were battling with George, then all of the dementors grouped at once and reluctantly turned once more to face the stag and the teenagers behind it.

"Fred! George! Join us-think good thoughts-everything we've done together-the more people we have, the harder it is for them!" Ron said. He, Harry and Hermione had followed in the path of the stag as it moved between the front of the cottage and the foot of the trail that the dementors had come down. The three of them stood, wands still pointed in unison at the dementors, pouring good thoughts through their minds and their wands, touching to show their unity. Fred and George, now able to abandon their dementor struggles, ran to join the trio. With one twin on each end, Ron reached even farther with his mind and stretched the connection to include them-they held up their wands to point with the other three.

Five wands, five minds, and five hearts were all united by the memorable and amazing experiences they'd had as friends. Ron was right-the dementors didn't stand a chance.

Leaving reluctantly as if they realized something awful was waiting for them at the end of their journey, the dementors turned back a little, one at a time, then floated up the path from which they came. They refused to even face the stag and whatever force was emanating from the end of the united wands, but something seemed to be troubling them, even as much as they apparently wished to leave.

"Wait a minute," Hermione said, looking intensely at the group. "There are only ten. Where's the other one?"

All five friends started to look around quickly, trying to avoid breaking the train of good thoughts, even though they felt nothing of the dementor sickness that should have been affecting them with the beasts still this close.

"Erm-look," Ron said, pointing at the tree where Valeria had been tied. The tall girl was crumpled on the ground, groggy or worse. She was slumped against the tree, her face pushed up on one side, her eyes closed. Her hands hung loosely where they were tied around the tree.

A lone dementor stood staring at her. As if in frustration, it kept reaching its claws out toward her, then pulling them back, as if it was trying to keep itself from attacking. It seemed oblivious to the rest of the activity that had gone on around it.

"Oh, gods, you don't suppose-" George started.

"No, I don't think so. If her soul was already gone, I don't think it would look so anxious to have her," Hermione reasoned.

As if feeling all of the eyes on it somehow, the dementor's hood turned. It did not seem to sense the presence of the other dementors anymore, which caused it to act in a rather panicked way. It backed away from Valeria.

But it was obvious the Patronus didn't feel like waiting to see if the dementor would leave. The stag trotted to the lone dementor, lowering its head and shoving the dementor away roughly with its antlers. The dementor quickly floated away as the rest of its group gave some sign to let it know where they were.

The stag Patronus trotted after the group of dementors, standing guard and watching them until they were well up the side of the mountain, heading toward the castle ruin.

The magnificent animal then trotted back towards the group of five students who stood wearily together, bloodied, gasping for air, exhausted, and still leaning on one another for support in front of the little stone cottage.

The stag stopped at the edge of the path near a particularly dense wooded area. It looked back at the students, then bowed its head as if in salute. The shimmering animal seemed to recognize the power of the friendship and unity that had brought it into existence once more and allowed it to force the dementors away. How the five friends could surmise all of this from the gaze of the stag was unknown to them, but since they were still mentally connected, what one felt, they all felt together.

As Harry's protector first and foremost, the stag studied the friends, apparently able to feel their dedication toward saving each other, and especially, toward protecting Harry. The animal seemed at once grateful and pleased that Harry had found such a brave, strong and resourceful group of friends to defend and look after him whenever the stag Patronus couldn't do it himself.

Harry had been watching the stag carefully, as he had each of the several times he had managed to produce it. The stag returned the deep gaze into Harry's eyes, but it was waiting for something. At once, Harry seemed to realize what that was. He smiled a small, weary smile, and weakly lifted his hand to wave once-the stag acknowledged his efforts with a dip of its head-then it bounded into the trees and out of sight.


	22. To Fear the Worst

**~ Chapter 22 ~  
To Fear the Worst**

She wondered if she had died in the battle. Was this what it was like to lose your soul? Had one of the dementors sucked her soul away, leaving her waning spirit inside her cold and lifeless body? She could feel nothing but freezing emptiness-no air, no sunshine, no sense of anything touching her at all. If she opened her eyes, what would she see? No-she couldn't face that yet.

The thoughts in her mind centered around strange ideas, so foreign to her that she wondered who the thoughts belonged to. She felt a rocking motion as she imagined herself moving-swinging from side to side, contracting muscles in the middle of her body to propel herself. What had happened to her legs? They were gone. It seemed at once horrifying and then altogether natural. As she felt herself moving, she felt the ground beneath her, along the entire length of her body, sliding, sliding, sliding...How could she be this close to the ground and move so smoothly at the same time?

She sensed voices from somewhere. She didn't exactly hear them-it was more like a feeling-like vibrations. Her body was trying desperately to hear in the way she was accustomed to hearing.

"Valeria?" a low, soothing voice said.

_I heard that-through my head- I didn't feel it. Valeria-I recognize that name-I know I do._ _But from where?  
_  
She felt pressure being relieved from the front of her body-from somewhere extending away from her. Something large and hard and rough that she had been leaning against was moving away now. Finally, her senses as she had always understood them were beginning to come back into focus.

Should she take the chance and open her eyes yet? She was terrified of what she would see of herself.

"Valeria? Are you all right?" It was that voice again. Then she heard the voice talking away from her, as if talking to someone else-at least she could feel herself hearing with her ears again. Perhaps opening her eyes would be safe after all.

With a great effort, Valeria used her facial muscles to try and pull her eyelids apart. It took a few moments to barely open one eye-her lids were so heavy!

At the first sight of light from outside her mind, it was as if the dam collapsed and the floodwaters broke through. The memories of what she'd just endured began to inundate her mind, surrounding it in the horrors of what Tom and Nagini had shown her of their intentions. Seemingly at light speed, the memories flew at her, causing her to gasp for air and clutch at whatever she could cling to, her muscles tensed in sheer panic. All she could do was scream, trying to release some of the fear that pressed upon her so forcefully that she thought her body would implode.

She remembered what the hard, rough thing was in front of her now-it was the tree she had been tied to. The dementors had been coming. Those people she knew were all standing in front and to the side of her, and they were preparing to fight with those sticks, no matter how outnumbered they were. They were either very stupid or very brave, but she couldn't remember just which it was.

Then the horror had started in her own mind. It hadn't been the dementors this time. They were too busy with their attack.

The one who had wanted to hurt _her_was Tom. He had come himself this time to torture her for not obeying the dementors, for pushing back against their evil, for painting the Dark Mark upon the wall to tell her friends it was he who had them trapped. Tom was furious that she hadn't managed to bring the black-haired boy to him, and seemed even more furious that he had to pay attention to that small, sparkling silver ball the entire time that he dealt with her.

Tom came to show Valeria that he would soon get around to torturing her grandmother, and perhaps even kill her himself. He wanted Valeria to see everything that he had planned to do to all of her new-found friends, especially that meddling red-haired friend of Potter's that had done so much to help Valeria foul up his plans. _Ron, was it? _she thought. _Yes, that was his name-it was all beginning to come back...  
_  
But most of all, he wanted to terrorize Valeria with what he had in store for her- because she had betrayed him.

Tom had introduced her to Nagini.

He explained that Nagini had always wanted a human body of her own, and that Tom told her she could use Valeria's, now that he was done using the girl to try and lure Potter.

"Good thing I know the Embodiment Spell to speed things along," he'd said to Valeria in her mind. "This is what the spell will look like, my dear. But, as disappointing as it may be, you'll hardly feel a thing."

At that point, Tom held up the head of the enormous snake to give Nagini one last look at the lovely young body she would consume and become. The snake had looked almost pleased, if the expression on the face of the scaly serpentine head was any indication.

Valeria slumped to the ground and watched in horror as Tom held the snake's head toward her feet. In her mind, her feet were now bare, so she could feel the snake's mouth close in on her toes, then move to her ankles-or _was_it real? As the terrifying beast moved up to her knees, she could feel its slimy intestinal muscles contracting around her feet, but the snake had to stop its forward progress a moment to unhinge its jaws and take in her knees. She was so horrified as the gaping mouth moved up her body that she could scarcely breathe and thought she would pass out. But Tom, inside her mind, wouldn't let her-he had even denied her that escape.

"Oh, no, my dear. I want you to see it all-_feel_it all happening to you. After all the help you've been to me, I wouldn't want you to miss a thing, right down to the bitter end," Tom said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

The snake had devoured her torso now and the muscular beast was now crushing her chest with it strength. As it swooped up to swallow her head, Valeria thought Tom's voice would then end. She had thought everything would end-but it only changed.

Valeria felt as if she were being compressed into a smaller being from the sheer pressure of the snake's body around her. It amazed her that she didn't need to breathe. Perhaps she was dead already.

That she still heard Tom's voice inside her mind surprised her. But he wasn't exactly talking. He was chanting some strange words, repeating them over and over, saying different parts with emphasis and varied pitch, and it sounded as if he were moving about back and forth in front of where she lay as he spoke.

All at once she felt her skin moving from her body, and she thought that the snake's internal organs must be starting to digest her. But then she felt her skin peeling away from her while something else, something foreign, was trying to move in underneath.

Though she could see nothing, Tom let her mind know just what was happening-he wanted to feel and enjoy every moment of her terror. Nagini's body was being absorbed into Valeria's-skin, bone, muscles, blood and organs all passing through the same parts of the other, until they were so intermingled that Valeria appeared to be herself on the outside, but held everything about Nagini within.

"I have only shown you this because the next time, when it's real, you'll be unable to watch, for you'll already be gone. The dementors have been awaiting your soul for some time now. Yet I certainly wouldn't have wanted you to miss seeing what our plans entailed. After all, you've taken care of Nagini's body for us for seventeen long years. It seems that you've done a fine job of it, too. But not to worry, we'll be taking _very_good care of it now," Tom said lasciviously. "You should thank Nagini, Valeria. It was her need of you that's kept you alive this long-it's obvious that you have been useless to me for some time now."

At this, Tom began to laugh. The hideous laughter faded and died out, and it was then that Valeria had first wondered if she'd survived the battle.

"She's been screaming for ten minutes now. Can she even hear us?" the voice asked.

"I don't know. They must have done something else to her. Let's get her inside," another voice said.

Someone grabbed at her arms, which she held tensed and shaking, crossed in front of her face. The warmth of human skin on her wrist shocked her into ending her screaming. But what did they want with her? She looked up in extreme fear, pleading into a set of deep blue eyes that she suddenly knew she remembered. It was Ron-he would help her-he had promised.

"Get her other side, George," Ron's tired voice ordered.

When Ron reached down to help lift her, Valeria seized his shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain. She felt something warm and sticky on her fingers and yanked her hand away to look at it. Her palm was covered with blood-she understood it was real blood this time.

She looked at the blood, then back at Ron, unable to make the connection as to how his injury had come to pass. Had she done this to him? She felt that her insanity was speaking to her again-shouting more insistently than it had since the night she had wanted to end it all-nothing was making any sense any more.

"Here-lean on me-not him," George told her.

Valeria did lean most of her weight against George's side. She wasn't sure where he was taking her, but she knew he wouldn't hurt her either.

As she and George made their way into the little stone cottage with Ron walking slowly alongside, she saw three other people ahead of her moving in the same direction. One was Harry, one was that girl, and in the middle, walking very sluggishly with the support of the other two, was Fred. All three seemed to be moving as if they were underwater. Valeria wondered if that part was real, or if it was just her mind playing tricks again.

Ron and George eased Valeria through the doorway and onto the sofa.

Harry and Hermione had already taken Fred to the bottom bunk to lie down. In spite of Fred's flailing protests, which caused Harry to hold Fred's arms down at his sides, Hermione tried to have a look at the nasty slice and bulging bluish purple lump just over his eye. Dried blood was caked in his hair and down his cheek and neck, making it difficult to see the extent of the injury. For some reason, he kept rambling on about something, but Valeria couldn't hear what it was.

"Valeria, did the dementors do something to you? Are you hurt?" Ron asked, leaning wearily against the arm of the sofa near her feet. He and George had been so upset once they'd actually seen the extent of Fred's injury that Harry and Hermione had told them to move to the other side of the room-Ron and George just kept getting in the way of any real treatment.

"I don't think so. I don't feel anything. Do you see any blood on me?" she replied.

Ron looked as if he thought it was strange that she was asking him if she was hurt, as if she couldn't tell herself. "No. Just the- mud-I think-and my blood on your hand." Ron paused, apparently waiting for her to finish answering his questions, but she didn't. "Valeria," he repeated, "The dementors? Did they do something to you?"

At once, her breathing became rapid and irregular, her eyes darted about the room, she began to feel as if the snake's enormous mouth was beginning to envelope her once more. "No...not dementors. But they were going to-it was swallowing me! I-"

Her voice simply froze in place; she started shaking her head vigorously and breathing unevenly, unable to continue with what her mind was thinking or what her voice was saying. As she tried to avoid the boys' gazes while they listened for more, her eyes moved about the room, settling on the Dark Mark. She started quivering again.

"No-nothing. No-nothing...no-"Valeria swung her feet to the floor and stood to head for her corner bed, but she became bewildered and lost when she didn't see it in its original location, having forgotten that it was covered in mud and left under the painting on the wall. "Nothing."

Valeria kept turning to different points in the room, looking for a place to go. But she ended up standing bewildered in the middle of the room until George gently pulled at her elbow.

George had righted one of the overturned chairs that had remained clean and set it behind the tall, dark-haired girl. He carefully pulled her into the chair and folded her arms across her middle in front of her.

Valeria sat calmly in a stupor, doing battle again-with her own thoughts this time.

# # #

"Can we all take a seat now please? Please-sit down," Dumbledore spoke quietly as he walked into his office through the small crowd of family members assembled there. The front row of chairs nearest his desk were taken by the Doctors Granger, and Arthur and Molly Weasley. The second row was filled with those Weasley children not missing in Ireland: Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Ginny. No one in attendance looked as if they'd slept in several days.

"All right. I think we're all here now. Alastor Moody was invited to help answer your questions about his part in our efforts; but it seems he was-drawn away by a matter of some urgency-and will be unable to join us." Dumbledore briefly recalled the rumpled, scribbled note he'd found on his desk upon returning from dinner the previous night:

_Dear Albus,_

Going back to Ireland to hike our way in-yes, tonight. Sorry to miss your meeting-someone's got to keep Black out of trouble.

Wish us luck and good leads,

Alastor

Returning his attention back to the room full of people, the Headmaster continued. "I appreciate your patience in waiting until this morning for our meeting. I am truly sorry for the delay, as I know that each hour that you wait for word of your loved ones seems like a day in itself."

Molly Weasley sniffed and held a handkerchief to her nose, as her husband slipped a comforting arm around her shoulders. The Grangers looked as if they were in shock, their faces taut and worried.

"I have information to give you on several issues. But I fear that none of the information that you would wish to hear is yet available to us. We have not yet found our students- your children and family- nor do we have any new confirmed information since the evening of their disappearance." Dumbledore stopped as many of the listeners shifted in their seats, the pain of the news obvious in their very stature.

"Our rescue team returned last evening to Ireland to use some extensive and unusual search methods. Traditional magical methods have been useless so far due to the existence of a barrier-"

"A barrier?" Bill Weasley interrupted. Molly shot a scolding glance at her eldest son for interrupting, but Dumbledore didn't seem to notice. "What kind of barrier are we talking about?"

"Actually, William, we're not completely certain," Dumbledore responded. "Our rescue team has been trying to decipher the spells holding it together for the last several days. The barrier seems to be passable if one avoids using magical means to do so. As a matter of fact, the team has likely, by this time, walked through the barrier and are on their way to the area where we think the students might be. But without the ability to use magic to speed things along, there's a good chance it may take some time."

"You can't use magical means to help them?" Everett Granger asked shakily.

Dumbledore knew that, as Muggles, the Grangers had difficulty understanding the scope and limitations of what could be accomplished in the wizarding world. Though he had always admired them for their strong and persistent support of Hermione's magical education, he had an idea that their utter confusion likely intensified the pain for them now.

"Sadly, we do not know that we can," Dumbledore confirmed.

"Do we have_ any_idea how long it might take them to reach the kids?" Arthur asked.

"Without knowing the exact location of the students, even with luck it could be another several days, I'm afraid." Dumbledore knew that this news would shake up the families terribly. He had hoped to leave it toward the end of the meeting, so he didn't have to face their stricken expressions for so long.

"I have been trying to reach a man who I think might be able to shed some light on the subject of the barrier. His name is Elver Beeles; he's an employee of the Magical Meteorological Society." Dumbledore proceeded to explain about Beeles' knowledge of the barrier, and his alleged connection with the disappearance of the students.

"So let's get this man here-it sounds like he'd have something to contribute-be it good or bad," Charlie Weasley said determinedly.

"If only it were that easy, Charles," Dumbledore replied. "That is one missing piece of information that I had wished to give you today, and one of the main reasons that our meeting was delayed- though in the end, it made no difference. Something rather odd seems to have happened to Beeles, though none of the rumors reported to me have yet to be confirmed. The Magical Meteorological Society seems to think that he's simply refused to report in to work on time so that he could spend more time with his family on vacation."

"He doesn't sound like the most scrupulous fellow, from what you've told us," Bill said, "so that doesn't seem too surprising. If we believe those watchwizards, we already know he's a liar...and a Slytherin."

"That's not what's odd," Dumbledore continued, ignoring the accusations. "What's strange is that, according to my sources, his family doesn't seem to have any idea where he is either. They're under the impression that he was sent on some sort of secret planning mission by the M.M.S., even though the Society denies any knowledge of it and persists in complaining that he's not reported to work. The whole circumstance is rather disturbing."

"Do you think his family's right about the M.M.S.? Are they lying?" Arthur asked.

"I have a fairly high-ranking source in the M.M.S. who claims that there_ are_no secret planning missions on their agenda at this moment. But something must have given the family that impression. Well, the end result is that he is nowhere to be found, so there's no help in that direction. But I do wonder if he knew anything about that orb."

"An orb?" Bill questioned.

"Yes, this ties in with the barrier we've been speaking of-I'm curious to see if there might be some connection between the legendary orb and the barrier it was purported to create. A short little fable in the lore of the Order tells us that hundreds of years ago a spell was created in Northern Europe to protect the people of Llagatín. The people there were weary of being attacked repeatedly by goblin tribes, trolls, and the dragon lords who ruled the surrounding lands, and the wizards of the little village were becoming fewer and fewer in number as the attacks grew more gruesome. The people were close to starving, especially when the witches and children of the village had to abandon their flocks and fields, just to defend their simple magical lives.

A young wizard commoner named Salvador Esperado Fuentes, whom many of the townspeople thought to be crazy at best, was somewhat famous locally for creating spells that were unique, but very limited in their usefulness. Little did the people who scorned him realize that 'Salvador, el Payaso', or Salvador the Clown would come to save them one day with just one such spell. Amazingly, Fuentes was said to have created a spherical spell, with no sign of a seam and where no binding spells were applied. It was a singular, perfect, spherical bubble."

"A spherical spell? I never heard of such a thing!" Charlie protested. "Well, I mean, it can be done, but not without seams, and it'll never be _perfectly_spherical. I've read a number of textbooks about barriers in working with restraining the dragons, and not one of the textbooks I've ever read-"

"Charles, as much as I hate to admit it, books do not always tell the full story," Dumbledore said. "In fact, I have once or twice in my life actually found one of the texts to be wrong." In spite of the solemnity of the situation, Dumbledore's eyes could not help but twinkle a bit at admitting such a revelation.

"So, how did that orb help the wizarding village?" Ginny asked, flashing an evil look at Charlie to show she was irritated that her brother had interrupted the story.

"The orb created a barrier through which nothing magical could pass. Therefore, any weapons or attacks from outside involving magic were rendered useless. The spell was first cast by creating the orb as a small, prismatic silver ball, which could then be enlarged. The spell's sphere of influence could also pass through the surface of the earth, which meant that the attackers could not burrow beneath the village successfully either. It usually manifested itself as a hemisphere above land so that the sphere's widest point was just at ground level. Casting and maintaining the spell absorbed a great deal of energy from the wizard or witch casting it, and demanded vigilant concentration; but Fuentes became so adept at its use that he could cast the spell and expand the barrier to an enormous size, far beyond that which anyone had ever conceived of before-plus, he could accomplish this in an instant. Fuentes enlarged the orb so magnificently at several points that he surrounded the village and its fields, effectively placing a barrier between the people and their attacking enemies. Eventually, the attackers became so frustrated at being unable to use their magic that they simply gave up the attacks and left the villagers in peace. Needless to say, Fuentes became not only the town hero, but he soon became the village leader."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, scanning the expressions of rapt attention on the faces focused on him. As he continued, the Headmaster began to pace back and forth across the front of the office.

"Fuentes was not only very powerful, but became a leader who maintained his high moral principles. Legend has it that he protected his people and his armies during La Guerra de las Tormentas with the barrier from the orb. Spanish wizarding history remembers him as a great, wise, and compassionate leader." Mention of one of the longest and ugliest wizarding wars in history caused Dumbledore to stop pacing and speaking a moment, and sigh. He hoped he would not be looking back at his lifetime some years in the future, thinking about how minor the wars of the past seemed compared to the battle that he himself might be facing very soon. He took a deep breath and went on.

"Yet after the wars had subsided and peace prevailed in the Western wizarding world, very little more more is mentioned of any magical orb in the history books. Hence, the majority of the world views the orb as more of a legend-perhaps some grand tale that was made up to account for what was actually the personal magic of a great and powerful wizard. No one really knows for sure."

"Every once in a while-perhaps every ten or fifteen years-something will come up about the orb-someone will claim to have found it-someone will say they can reproduce the spherical spell. But so far, all of the claims have been proven to be hoaxes, minus one or two. Unless the Ministry is concealing something that they don't wish us to know-"

"Well, I've got an above-average-rated security clearance, and nothing like that has ever crossed my desk, I can assure you all," Percy said magnanimously to all present.

Bill and Charlie exchanged a meaningful smirk, then both turned to Percy and stared.

Percy tried to appear unruffled, but refused to return their stares. "Well, it hasn't."

"What about those one or two times that weren't hoaxes?" Dorothy Granger asked.

"The first occurrence was in the late 1800's and involved a distant relative of the Fuentes family who claimed that he had the orb and was going to make himself invincible with it. Because this man was distantly related, no one could disprove his claim, but the wizard was soon relegated to Spain's equivalent of St. Mungo's with mental problems for the rest of his normal life, and it was never proven whether or not the orb was ever in his possession."

"The second time?" Bill asked.

"That incident occurred nearly eighteen years ago now, and was combined with a rather bizarre and gruesome circumstance during the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, Spain. In fact, one of the last living Fuentes relatives was brutally murdered at that time, along with a number of hapless Muggles who were quite simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. There were witnesses who claim to have actually seen the orb in the open there, and also claim that the orb may have been stolen by the murderer, before a fire in the area consumed much of the evidence." Something forced Dumbledore to consider this incident very seriously before another question interrupted his train of thought.

"Albus, are you thinking that maybe the Weather Spell Beeles used has something to do with the orb?" Arthur asked.

"I can't be certain without seeing the basis for both spells," Dumbledore replied. "But they certainly share similar properties-and very unusual properties, to be sure. There may be fewer differences between the two spells than there are similarities. I doubt that the M.M.S. has the original orb, because many a fortune-hunter has tracked the legend of that orb to the ends of the earth and back. And certainly the M.M.S. would be no stronghold of information if they really had it in their possession. But they could have finally created something similar."

"So this barrier, created by the orb, is that what you think the kids are trapped behind?"  
Everett Granger asked for clarification.

"If the orb exists, I would say that the similarities seem to be more than coincidence, unless someone's using an unauthorized Weather Spell. But the M.M.S. would be able to track that," Dumbledore answered. "Due to the fact that the students are in the same area, I would also venture to guess that the use of the barrier is directed at them. There's still a chance that they were simply caught by some sort of natural cause; but I'm not sure that I believe deeply enough in coincidence to convince myself."

"Who would have enough power to keep the orb a secret if they did have it?" Everyone turned at hearing the directness of Ginny's question, then returned their gaze to Dumbledore for the answer.

Dumbledore scanned the eyes of all of the Weasleys present as he spoke. "I do know that before he left Ron was dealing with some issues regarding dementors in his telempathy. There were also the dementor attacks at the Quidditch match, which you already know about. But I can tell you that dementors are neither intelligent enough nor magical enough to suspend the orb, so I believe that can be ruled out."

"You told us that You-Know-Who is still in the Ukraine according to the Aurors. So, who else, then?" Bill asked.

Dumbledore was slow in responding, trying to choose the best words he could without alarming them completely. "In actuality, there are several I can think of, but only one or two who actually_ would_use it in detaining innocent students intentionally. I do have a call in to the Auror in charge in Ukraine. We certainly need much more information than we have to confirm my suspicions, but just for safety's sake, I need to know just how certain they are that -Voldemort is in those mountains."

At this, Molly Weasley gasped and Arthur and his children all went paler than normal. The Doctors Granger just looked around themselves-surprised, confused, and frightened at the horrified reactions of the others.

Moving closer to the Grangers, Dumbledore quietly explained to them , as gently as possible, the implications of his words. As he finished, Dorothy Granger began to sob quietly.

The Headmaster then stood silently to let each family member absorb the information the best way they knew how. As immediate family, they all deserved to know there was a chance it was true, but it didn't make it any easier to accept.

Several long, quiet, painful minutes had passed when Ginny spoke. "Professor Dumbledore, do you know how far Ron's telempathy works? I mean, could he possibly use it to connect with me from wherever he is, or is it just too far away?"

"Since there have been so few cases documented of wizards endowed with the gift that your brother carries, I can't be sure. But, judging from the fact that the girl who originally contacted Ron through the connection was located in Spain, I would hazard a guess that he could connect with you here telempathically. Why? Is there something you've heard, or is this just 'hypothetical'?"

All eyes in the room turned to focus on Ginny. She looked back at them, a bit intimidated and felt Bill, sitting next to her, move his arm up behind her shoulders to give her moral support.

"Well, actually, I'm not really sure," Ginny began. "You see, this morning I was lying in bed. Then I heard this voice in my mind that was sort of muffled and strange, but it sounded a bit like Ron's, and there was that fuzzy feeling I get when he connects with me, but it was really weak."

Ginny looked around again and swallowed, willing herself to go on.

"What did he say, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked gently but intensely all the same.

"He said he had to push really hard to get through and that the connection was really weak from his side, too. He said they were still in Ireland and they were near the ocean, but he didn't know just where." Ginny breathed deeply and let out a shuddering breath.

"Are you sure it was Ron? Could you have been dreaming, Gin?" Charlie asked gently.

"I-I don't think I was. I kept trying to see if I was awake, and I'm pretty sure I was because of how it felt-his feelings, you know? Ro-Ron said he had to try, though, because-" Ginny felt tears welling in her eyes and her throat began to tighten. "He wanted me to tell everyone that they were trying to get home, and that they missed all of you, just in case-" Ginny looked as if she could feel the emotion crashing in on her and was really struggling to maintain control.

"Just in case what, Ginny?" Arthur asked gently. "Did he say anything else? This could be very important."

Ginny looked into her father's eyes as he turned around from the row in front of her. She seemed to gain strength from something that she found there.

"It's not that he _said_anything else-it's that he sent the feeling for it," Ginny tried to explain. "They wanted all of you to know-that they love you." She collapsed into sobs then, her body shaking against Bill, as he pulled his arm tighter around her.

Bill shot a skeptical look over the top of Ginny's head at Charlie, then on to Percy- they all seemed to agree without saying that it didn't really sound like something Ron would say.

Even Molly Weasley seemed to think it might have been a vision or something caused by fatigue and extreme worry. "Did he sound all right-was he upset in any way?"

"I've already told you-I don't know!" Ginny blurted out wetly. "He said he was okay, but I could tell that he wasn't-I could _feel_that he wasn't. He was afraid-he didn't know what was going to happen to them." Ginny paused a moment to take a breath, then just as quickly fell into sobs again. "It was like he was saying-goodbye."

"Oh, dear..." Dorothy Granger squeaked out, as her husband nervously wiped his hand across his face and reached an arm around to comfort her.

The Weasleys all looked at one another, Mrs. Weasley sniffling and standing to move next to Ginny. Charlie switched seats with his mother, allowing her to sit close to her daughter so that she could hold her and comfort her, but both of the Weasley women were crying by then. It was difficult to tell as they rocked who was comforting whom.

Dumbledore hadn't been expecting this revelation. In one sense, he had wondered why Ron hadn't tried to use his telempathy previously, but in another, he was uncertain as to what Ron's abilities might be. Then there was the issue of the orb or barrier, whatever it was-he had no idea what the power of the barrier could do to defy any attempts to get through. There were simply too many blasted unknowns in this whole situation...

The Headmaster moved up to join the Weasley men, who had now huddled together to discuss what Ginny had said.

"That doesn't really sound like Ron. Maybe she's just overwrought and she thinks-" Percy started.

"But I think there's one circumstance-and only one-where I think he'd say something like that," Arthur interrupted.

"When he thought he was in big trouble, and he seriously thought they might not make it out," Bill finished.

"Yep-even Ron might admit feeling like that if he was thinking-" Charlie couldn't finish his own thought.

The four of them sat back nervously, some with hands to their faces, realizing together that it likely _had_been Ron who had contacted Ginny. Now they had to face the fact that there still wasn't much they could do about it.

Before another word could be said, the outer office door swished open and Professor McGonagall walked purposefully into the room, a small parchment gripped tightly in her hand. Her expression was grim and she appeared pale as she strode to the Headmaster.

"I took this in my office, since I knew you were involved here with the families," McGonagall said. "But it was owled as 'extremely urgent' and with instructions to take care of it 'as usual' after reading."

Dumbledore took in everything about her expression before reaching for and unrolling the parchment, knowing already that it had to be bad news. The note was unmarked, but he could tell it was from the M.M.S., from the very same high-ranking source he had mentioned earlier in the meeting. The words scrawled across the page were few:

_Elver Beeles' corpse was sent here today._

The Headmaster stared at the words for several minutes before re-rolling the parchment and tucking it inside of his robes to deal with later. He considered telling the families present, then just as quickly decided against it when he looked around at all of the stricken and shocked faces surrounding him. They'd already had enough for now. It would do no good to pass on information like this-it wasn't one of their loved ones who had died-but death had now become a common factor in the case of their children's disappearance. Beeles' body itself had become a message from the killer. It only confirmed the dreadful thoughts the Headmaster had been trying to push away.

"Thank you," Dumbledore muttered.

McGonagall looked at the grim scene around her. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not unless you know the whereabouts of five very special students," Dumbledore said, in a weak attempt to inject some sense of hope into the room. He then looked down, understanding that no one would feel cheered by anything that day, except to see their loved ones walk through the door. "No, I don't think so, Minerva. "

McGonagall walked from the room, presumably to continue to try and run a school while the Headmaster was otherwise occupied.

Ginny was lagging behind the rest of her family as they headed sorrowfully for their guest rooms in the West Tower. Still sniffling, she was torn between hoping to avoid anyone she knew with her red, puffy eyes and not caring at all what anyone saw.

The whole group in front of her-her older brothers and her parents-were talking solemnly about who they might contact and what else they could possibly do to help the rescue effort. But it sounded as if underneath, they all realized that Dumbledore was doing all that he could without arousing the curiosity of the press, who could put the students in more danger by announcing their plight to the entire wizarding world.

As they passed the stairway leading up from the dungeons, Ginny noticed that several students rounded the corner at the top and fell into step with her as she walked. Trying to avoid looking at whoever it was, she slowed her steps, then sped up, but the figures stayed alongside her all the way.

"What's the matter, Ginny? Been crying over the little lost sheep?"

"Go away, Draco," Ginny said, recognizing the voice, but refusing to look at him. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that Crabbe and Goyle were flanking him, as always.

"Let's see," Malfoy leaned down so that he could get a glimpse of her face as she looked at the floor. "Oh, yeah. You've been crying-look at those puffy eyes! Are you sure you don't need a little comforting? I've been told I know how to comfort girls _very _well, and I'd be glad to-"

"Well, well, Draco Malfoy, ya little puke. Oh, and look how cute-he has his pukelets with him."

Ginny watched as Draco stopped short and looked up into Charlie's face. Her brother had apparently noticed Draco harassing her and had turned to help.

Draco took a deep breath, visibly trying to drum up courage to face the burly man who was at least a head and a half taller than he was. Malfoy must have also noticed that the rest of the Weasley family had now stopped and turned so that Bill, Arthur, and even Percy were moving to back up Charlie. Looking as though he was rapidly trying to assess the situation and the chances that he and his henchmen would have against all of the Weasleys, Draco's puffed-out chest deflated somewhat.

"I don't have any problem with you," Draco said snidely. "I was just offering Ginny my 'condolences' on your lost little brothers."

"Well, I have a problem with you, and the things that you continually say about my family," Charlie replied. "If only I were your age and they wouldn't put me away for beating the snot out of you, I'd do it right here."

"That sounds like a threat," Draco said, though his tone of voice was getting higher as the conversation went on. "My father would be _very_interested to hear that grown men were threatening his son on the school grounds..."

"Your father doesn't seem to have any problem threatening anybody, anywhere," Bill chimed in.

Shoving her way through the almost solid wall of male Weasley bodies, Molly Weasley walked up to Draco. Though Draco was a bit taller than her mother, Ginny noticed that her mum looked ever so much more intimidating at the moment.

Draco was visibly trying to keep the sneer he directed toward Mrs. Weasley from wavering, but it was clear that it was indeed a struggle. Ginny could see Malfoy almost pulling his head back into himself as a turtle might do. He was trying to make it appear that he wasn't backing down, but Ginny was fairly sure he was also afraid he might get his ears boxed by the red-haired, middle-aged spitfire in front of him, if not something worse.

"I'll thank you to leave my daughter alone, Draco Malfoy," Molly started, apparently trying to save her husband and sons from getting too involved in the argument. "She and Ron both told me about you accosting her in the library last fall. Speaking of threats on the school grounds, how does your family feel about sexual harassment charges?"

In spite of being confronted with an adult, Draco's mouth curled at the word 'sexual' and he stifled a snigger as he glanced back at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Oh, well, I'm _really_sorry that she felt like I was harassing her," Draco said sarcastically. "I definitely got the impression that she wanted me to do that."

Molly narrowed her eyes at him, but appeared to be making an effort to remain civil. "Apparently you don't catch on too quickly as to what people are trying to tell you, then," Mrs. Weasley said tersely. She started to turn away, but Draco's voice stopped her.

"Oh, before you go, ma'am," Draco said tauntingly. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm _really _sorry they can't seem to find your sons."

Though Molly didn't trust his intentions, she did seem to want to leave now that she'd had her say and before things got out of hand with the rest of her family. "All right," she said shortly. "Thank you."

"Look at it this way," Draco continued. "Maybe it's a blessing in disguise. Maybe now you'll be able to afford to feed the ones you have left."

Molly Weasley gasped and turned. Ginny had seen that looked on her mum's face before, as had the rest of the Weasleys. At Draco's comment, the Weasley men had all tensed and started closing in on the three Slytherin boys. But as their wife and mother stepped to the fore, all of them backed off, knowing that Molly Weasley was well-equipped for, and now in charge of whatever would happen next.

"You _VILE _little boy!" Mrs. Weasley spat. "Don't you ever,_ ever_say anything like that to another human being again!"

Pulling her hand back, Molly slapped Malfoy across the face so hard that he flew off balance and smacked his other cheek into the solid rock castle wall several feet away. The thud his head made on contact actually echoed through the hallway right after the sharp sound of the slap, even with all of the bodies present to absorb the noise.

Still not satisfied in quelling her anger, Molly looked next to Crabbe and Goyle, who both quite suddenly developed an avid interest in tying their shoelaces.

"Mum!" Ginny said in surprise. "Come on." Ginny grabbed her mum by the elbow and turned her away from Malfoy before she killed him. Malfoy obviously didn't have a clue who he was talking to if he thought he could say something like that to her mum. She pushed Mrs. Weasley through the crowd of her dad and brothers and a few students who had slowed to watch the action.

With one last glance behind her to make sure that Malfoy wasn't lying unconscious in a pool of blood on the floor, Ginny noted that at least he was still standing. He did, however, appear to have a rising lump on one side of his head and a glaring red welt on the other side of his face. Little did Draco know that, as upset and frustrated as her mum was about her missing sons, he'd actually gotten off easy.

# # #

Like naughty children anticipating their punishment, the dementors were grouped together in a swarming mass of black cloaks and scabby appendages, fidgeting nervously, and waiting where they'd been told to stay by the Dark Lord.

Wormtail looked in no better condition, except that he wanted nothing to do with the dementors, and that left him alone-shaking, perspiring, and resisting the urge to run from the room and hide.

They all had one terrible thing in common-they had failed in their mission to bring Potter to their master-again.

Voldemort stormed several steps into the room, turned and silently paced the floor anxiously for several minutes, then leaned back against the wall in frustration.

He spoke slowly and deliberately in a voice that was deceptively calm. "What am I going to do with you? I have tried, have I not, to be patient, to treat you well, to allow you to share in the spoils of my glory. And yet you do not bring me Potter. You allow him to slip through your fingers time and again. You allow him time to prepare whatever weak little spells he has to repel you, then you have the audacity to actually fear them. Where have I gone wrong? Have I been too soft? Have I not communicated the importance of your obedience? Because I fear I have not-and I fear that it's time to show you how important this is to me."

Rapidly pulling his wand from his robes, he pointed it first at the group of dementors.

_"Incendio Dermatis!" _he shouted in a voice that reverberated so loudly through the room that the stone walls fairly shook.

The dementors squealed and shrieked as their scabby, scaled skin broke into flames. Voldemort knew that their robes would not burn as well as he knew that they could not remove them. He knew the dementors would not die-they were in essence already dead. But he did know that the excuse for skin that they had to use to appear in the mortal world would burn without harm, though not without pain-and let it burn he did.

Wormtail gaped in horror at the sight of the dementors on fire. He appeared as if the skin was stretched and pulled back from his face, he was so utterly terrified. Wetness appeared on the floor near his foot, and he threw himself at the mercy of the Dark Lord.

"No, Master, no," Wormtail begged. "I have done your bidding. _They_were to bring you Potter, not I. I have done all you asked-"

"No, Wormtail, you have not. You feared them- mere children- and I asked you to be strong against them," Voldemort replied.

"I did! I did return their spells at them, those that I could reach. I know I gave the dementors time to get to Potter, I know I hit two boys with the very wood pieces they sent towards the dementors-"

"And the end result? Is Potter here now in my possession? None of you understand. I've tired of pursuing _him_-I want him brought here before me and thrown at my feet like the insignificant speck that he is. I want him to know that I see him as _less_than the lowest form of anything he made me become. I want him to cringe at my greatness and tremble at my power. Could it be any simpler? " Voldemort swung the wand toward his servant.

The pleading man knew the answer and was terrified of what was coming. "No, no, no..." Wormtail sobbed, sliding down the front of his master's robes to the floor.

_"Crucio!"_Voldemort said with quiet intensity, pulling his own robe free from the writhing spasms of the round little man on the floor.

Voldemort momentarily listened to the cries, shrieks, and crackling around him, but soon lost himself in his own thoughts. He had had to let the barrier down yet again to deal with the imbeciles here in the room beside him, and also to jettison Beeles' lifeless body with Floo Powder (the old castle was still attached to the Network) into the gigantic hearth in the main lobby of the Magical Meteorological Society Building.

After all, Beeles had told the Dark Lord that the M.M.S. was looking for him. They wanted him to return to work. "Guess who's back from vacation," Voldemort muttered to himself dryly.

Another five minutes or so and he would stop the spells he'd set upon his servants. They deserved to be punished, but he still needed them to be able to help. After that, he'd take a short rest and return to the study to begin the daunting task of re-building the orb spell again and launching the barrier for what he was certain would be the very last time.

Standing at the door of the room so that there was no escape for his charges, Voldemort turned away-they were beginning to bore him. He looked out the window at the fog beginning to pour in from the ocean, and wondered at the stupidity of Potter and his friends that they had yet to figure out the meaning of the fog and its connection with their inability to use the Portkey.

On the other hand, Voldemort was counting on that stupidity to help him now-it only had to keep those kids here long enough for him to get to them himself.


	23. Aftermath

**~ Chapter 23 ~  
Aftermath**

Ron found that it was still difficult to put the morning's dementor battle into perspective.

It was nearly two o'clock now, and the waning brightness of midday gave false promise to the safety that had been threatened in the half-light of dawn. The memory remained in his mind, seeming almost as imaginary as the nightmare with Valeria of last evening -the memories lost in a strange, surreal otherworld that somehow wasn't connected to the cheerful chirping of the birds just outside the window.

The time that had passed and the few hours of sleep they had accidentally taken from sheer exhaustion had put space between the real terror of their battle, and this facade of normalcy.

Fred moaned as he turned over in his bunk and pushed his head into the folded blanket he'd been using as a pillow, but he didn't wake. Hermione had earlier done a Disinfecting Spell on the deep gash on his forehead, then sealed the blackish-purple, swollen wound with Spell-o-Stitches. She had predicted it would heal if he could get better treatment soon, yet likely would leave him with a scar to tell stories about for years to come. (In trying to cheer Fred, Ron and George had been merciless in teasing him about trying to rival Harry with his scar.) But even the Numbing Charm that Hermione had cast couldn't completely remove the sharp pains that caused Fred to cry out in his sleep from time to time.

Worriedly watching his brother settle back into an uneasy slumber, Ron glanced down at his own injury. Despite his protests, Hermione had wanted to treat the still-oozing slash that crossed his arm from the chunk of firewood ripping its way through his skin a few inches below his shoulder. Having successfully sent her away (or so he thought), she returned with reinforcements in the form of Harry and George, both of whom supported her decision to clean and bandage his wound before any infection set in. So now, his already-battered Cannons shirt was sleeveless on one side, but the cut on his arm was cleaned, Spell-o-Stitched and tied with a bandage. _At least the bandage is Cannons orange,_he thought wryly.

Having attended to the injured, had a bit of unintended sleep, and not yet ready to face discussing their predicament, the group was now trying to clean up the cottage a bit just to keep themselves busy and avoid thinking too hard about anything else to come. Valeria was feeling no better than any of the rest of them, but she insisted on doing her part.

Ron and Valeria had pushed her bed back into its original location, stripping it of its old blankets. All five of them had done the best they could with cleaning the floors and bed covers of mud-all but the walls looked much better now.

But no amount of Valeria's scrubbing or Ron's magic would remove the Dark Mark no matter how hard they tried. Even though the color of the dried mud had faded some, the image was still there, as if etched into the stone itself.

Hermione descended the loft ladder, eyeing Ron and Valeria cautiously. She still behaved as if she might break in on something that she really didn't want to see.

"Where are Harry and George?" Hermione asked quietly, looking around uncomfortably.

"Outside filling the buckets. They didn't want me getting my stitches wet so they made me stay here. Bloody tyrants you've turned them into, Hermione," Ron replied, trying to joke, but noting Hermione's uneasiness.

Looking from Ron to Valeria, Hermione began to wander towards the door. "I suppose I'll just go help them then."

_Don't you dare keep looking for something between Valeria and me that's not there, Hermione! _"No!" Ron said, a bit too strongly. "I mean, maybe you can help me with this wall. I know_ I _can't get this stuff off-maybe you can."

Hermione still looked a bit uncertain, but walked toward the middle of the room nonetheless. She pulled her wand from her back pocket and pointed it at the painted wall, saying loudly, _"Limpiarmus!"_

A few sparks bounced from the wall as the spell connected with it, but as they cleared, the Dark Mark was still very visible, only now appeared to be a bit greener. Hermione tried again, with the same result.

"Well-at least it wasn't just me," Ron said, which didn't seem to console Hermione much at all. "Hey-wonder if it would work like it did with the dementors."

Hermione looked at Ron doubtfully. "What do you mean?"

"When we were helping Harry, all three of our wands together made the magic stronger-then with five of us, it was even better."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know why that happened, Ron. But you'd think that after almost five years of magical training, they would have told us if something like that was likely to happen all the time. I doubt if it would -"

"Come on-we'll never know unless we try. Besides, maybe it _doesn't_ happen with everyone else-maybe it's just _us." _Ron moved up close behind Hermione, aligning his right shoulder, arm, and hand alongside of hers. They faced the Dark Mark together, their wand tips no more than an inch from each other. Pretending that he had to lean in to take better aim, Ron reached down and gently pulled a section of Hermione's hair back, then positioned his face just over her shoulder. He was very aware that he was nearly breathing in her ear, and her shiver against him let him know that she was quite aware of it, too.

"Hurry up," Hermione said, twitching nervously, his closeness obviously having a serious effect on her.

"Why?" Ron breathed calmly and deliberately into her ear. "Big project to start on in the library? Three feet of parchment due on the interrelationship of Fibonacci numbers to ancient Arithmancy? Just-somewhere else you need to be? Oh-better hurry."

She seemed to be doing her best to ignore him and his sarcasm, but he could tell he was getting to her. _Good, good,_...he thought. But he noted that for some reason she sounded almost intimidated by him-and that had never happened before.

_Hermione -notice that I want to be this close to you in front of Valeria-that's got to tell you there's nothing there-come on, get the picture! I can't be too much more obvious unless I just grab you and snog with you right here and now-but then you'd likely be angry about that. I thought that letting you know how I feel about you when we were fighting the dementors would have been enough, but no-not for you. Give me a sign, Hermione..._

"Steady," Ron said, firmly placing his left hand on Hermione's waist while re-thinking the grab-and-snog issue. "On three...one, two, three..."

_"Limpiarmus!"_

Two bolts of vivid, red light shot from the ends of their wands, winding, twisting and writhing around one another playfully as they flew in mid-air. They collided with the wall no more than inches apart and with a loud, sharp "Crack!" Showers of sparks flew back through the whole room-even the Dark Mark on the wall wavered and disappeared for a minute- but with a sizzling hiss, it reappeared slowly, even darker green this time.

Ron and Hermione stood for a moment, staring in awe at what had just happened when they combined their magic. True, it hadn't done away with the Mark, but neither one of them had ever had a magical reaction like that on their own before.

"Ron," Hermione complained, taking a step away and turning to face him. She was obviously disappointed that the Dark Mark had returned. "You startled me, and I think I moved just as we said the spell. If you wanted it to work, you shouldn't have done that."

"Me? I _startled_ you?" Ron questioned, staring at her. "Right-and it still turned out like that when we did the spell together. Scary to think what more would have happened if I _hadn't_done that, then, isn't it? Well, I reckon it's good to know that I can 'startle you' just by standing that close."

"Don't tell me that you didn't know very well what you were doing. Especially when you put your hand-" Hermione stopped mid-sentence, suddenly realizing that the two of them were not alone.

"So what are you trying to tell me, then?" Ron demanded, until he realized that Hermione's focus had suddenly shifted to the side.

Very slowly, Ron and Hermione both turned to face Valeria, who, to their surprise, was grinning at them.

"You two are so funny with each other," Valeria said matter-of-factly, shaking her head and continuing to scrub mud from the stone table.

Ron and Hermione turned back to look at one another blankly for a moment.

Ron rolled his eyes heavenward and threw his hands in the air. "I'm going to see if I can manage to get my stitches wet, just to irritate all of you. Be back in a few minutes." Ron walked to the door and crunched across the gravel outside.

"What was that noise I heard?" Harry asked as Ron approached them at the well.

"That was me, startling Hermione," Ron explained. "Oh, and we were trying to get that nice little decoration off of the wall, too."

Harry just looked at his best friend for a moment. "Er...all right, then," Harry responded slowly, sounding confused and suspicious, but apparently unwilling to pursue the matter. "We're nearly done here. Do you think everyone's ready to talk?"

Ron knew that Harry was talking about discussing their situation and what to do from here. Even with his brother lying hurt in the cottage and himself in a bit of pain from his arm, he had almost managed to forget for a few moments what serious peril they were in.

"Yeah, I reckon. We can't wait forever," Ron said resignedly.

"What about Valeria? is she-all right- to talk about it? Or even just be there?" George asked.

"With her-who knows?" Ron asked. "Come on-I'll help you guys get the pails inside."

Ron, Harry, and George all picked up two full pails of water each and headed for the door of the cottage. Ron was surprised to see Valeria and Hermione engaged in conversation when they entered-it was the first time he had seen them actually talk since they'd met. And what felt _really_odd was that as soon as he entered the room, both girls swung around to consider him, then looked back at each other with a strange expression on their faces. They also stopped talking immediately when he came within earshot-it was a bit unnerving.

Harry was looking at the Dark Mark on the wall. "So we still have our artwork. You two couldn't get rid of it, eh?"

Ron shook his head. "Nope-I don't know why nothing will take it off. You don't suppose it could be charmed or anything?" Ron looked thoughtful for a moment. "Valeria, where did you ever see this before? What made you paint it on the wall?"

Valeria was suddenly solemn, but seemed to be in control of herself. "I used to see it all the time. I always drew it somewhere during a blackout, but I never remembered doing it."

"He's here-nearby-isn't he,Valeria?" Harry asked her quietly.

"Tom?" Valeria asked, acting as if some kind of pain would attack her at any moment. Her eyes darted around in confusion when nothing happened. "He's here in my mind when he wants to be-yes. I've never seen him in person-but- he's just a boy-like you, maybe a little older. He even looks like you. Why does he want you so badly, Harry?"

Harry sighed wearily, shook his head, and even smirked a bit. "It's a very, very long story-and he doesn't always look like you said."

"How long has he been coming into your mind?" Ron asked Valeria, his brow furrowed in thought. ""He only just started with that, right?"

Valeria still looked surprised at being able to talk about Tom without doubling over from pain in her head. "Not really. He came to me long before I ever got on the ship."

The realization hit Hermione first. "Oh, my God, Harry, that means-"

Harry seemed at once stunned and unruffled by the thought. He nodded his head slightly and spoke in a deathly calm voice. "He's planned this all along. He _knew_all along-must have orchestrated the whole thing. I had an idea about the Portkey-now I know for sure. You know, he's probably even the one keeping the fog at bay, just so he can see me better when he comes to kill me. Well, at least the mystery's solved. No more secrets here."

Ron still had trouble believing it. "But Dumbledore said-"

"Give it a rest, Ron," Harry said. "Should Valeria have been able to slip out of the Leg-Locker Curse last night after you _knew _you cast it on her the right way? No- but she did it-even if we know now that she had help. So we just have to deal with the truth, no matter how it happened."

"But, Valeria," Ron said, "it seemed like you were resisting something last night when you painted this on the wall. It seemed like _you_were the one doing it, fighting the dementors, trying to tell us it was-You-Know-Who. Do you have any idea why he's letting you talk about it now? Or why we can't erase it from the wall, if it's just something you painted?"

"I guess that it's because he's done with me now, too," Valeria said quietly. "He probably thinks you all know now, so he's tried to turn it to his advantage. He can't see Harry through me much any more because I keep trying to fight it-I don't know if he can see him through that."

All in the room save Fred turned to look at the Mark and consider that possibility. Most of them shivered.

"But how could he? It's just mud on a wall, Valeria," Ron tried to reason.

"It's also indestructible, unlike mud on a wall," Harry said.

"Mostly, he's angry because I haven't brought him Harry," Valeria continued, "and I won't do everything he wants. That's why he showed me what he'll do with me-when you were all fighting with the dementors."

"He was with you then? In your mind?" George asked, trying to comprehend how that could have occurred.

"Yes. He showed me-" Valeria was fighting hard, but her emotions were beginning to get the better of her again. The tears began to roll down her cheeks.

Ron felt compelled to move over and comfort her, but he quickly glanced toward Hermione. He was ever so grateful when George moved to sit next to Valeria on the sofa and put his hand over hers to console her.

"If he was just going to _kill_me, it would be different," Valeria said. "I've thought about being dead before-that part doesn't matter. But he's going to change me into something awful-this beast-and it'll look like me, but it's not me inside."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked gently.

"He showed me this snake-this enormous snake-and how it would swallow me whole, then we'd mix together and it would look like me on the outside. And then he's going to send the beast back to Abuelita and the both of them together are going to kill her. She'll think it's me. She'll let me in because she loves me, and be so happy to see me, and then that _thing_will start to hurt her and-she'll think it's me-"

Valeria collapsed into sobs and couldn't continue. She covered her face and slumped against George, who awkwardly wrapped his arms around her and patted her arm as she cried.

"The Embodiment Spell," Harry muttered. "He can probably do it in his sleep-I saw him bring his own body back with it in Little Hangleton the night of the third task. He needed my blood to do it then. Heaven knows what he'll need to change that snake into Valeria-or the other way around."

Harry jumped from his seat in frustration and paced the floor for several minutes.

Ron had been sitting quietly for the most part, trying to make sense of it all. "Damn it, Harry. I'm so sorry I brought you to Ireland. This is all my fault. I took you away from Hogwarts and Dumbledore and they're the only things that can keep you safe."

"You?" Harry said loudly. "If bloody Voldemort didn't want _me_, none of you would be in danger-you wouldn't even be here! He's not going to worry about keeping a bunch of Hogwarts students from going home after a Quidditch match-unless the famous Harry Potter is with them. Just look what he's done to Valeria's _life_ because of _me!_ It's _me _he wants! Sorry to break this to you, but he wouldn't go to all of this trouble just for you unless he thought he could get to _me!"_

Harry reached down and threw a small rock from the floor at the Dark Mark on the wall, which seemed to be mocking them in its unending stare. The rock bounced to the floor several feet away.

"You filthy-snake!" Harry yelled, grabbing his wand from his back pocket. Trembling with rage, Harry pointed his wand at the Mark. "Come and get me if you can-but leave them _alone!"_

Ron could almost see the energy coursing through Harry's mind and body and down the length of his arm through the wand. A wavering stream of light raced from the end of the wand, blasting the wall into flames and bouncing back not just sparks, but small fireballs that burnt into the walls and the floor where they landed before they finally burned out.

The wall itself still on fire, Ron briefly wondered at the magical strength that Harry possessed that could make stone burn. Harry continued to pace, his anger apparent on his face and in his gait.

What chilled them all to the bone again on a nice, warm spring afternoon where they could still hear the birds singing outside was the indestructibility of the image on the wall. It had not disappeared, even through the fire. Ron, Hermione, and George (who still held the sobbing Valeria) stared at the flames, now burning in the image of the Dark Mark. They watched it burn for several long minutes before it turned into a smoldering symbol of gloom.

Hermione was the first to be able to speak. "All right, then. Voldemort knows Harry's here. We managed to hold off the dementors once, but I'm guessing that if Voldemort's behind them, they'll be back. We simply need to get out of here-and if the Portkey doesn't work, then we'll just have to walk our way out."

"I'm not sure where we'll go, but I think Hermione's right," Ron agreed.

"What about Fred?" George asked.

Valeria had finally stopped crying and was wiping at her face with one hand, but she was still leaning against George's side as she recovered.

"That's right," Ron acknowledged. "He's not going to be able to walk very far, I don't think."

"Are you sure?" Hermione questioned. ""Because we may have to push ourselves to do some things we don't want to just to get out of here. See if you can wake him up, Ron. He's been asleep for a while. We should wake him anyway just in case it was truly a concussion, since we have no way of knowing for sure-maybe he'll be feeling better."

Ron walked to his sleeping brother and shook him gently by the shoulder. "Fred. Fred! Wake up! Oi, Fred!"

Fred moaned, but wouldn't awaken.

"Fred! Angelina's here! She's desperate to see you! Says she's brought you something sweet..." Ron said.

Hermione frowned at Ron's tactics, but he waved her away.

A smile crossed Fred's face, but he still didn't open his eyes.

"Come on, Fred-we're going to see about walking. Harry, come help me," Ron requested.

Harry had been standing sullenly in the corner, thinking, since his bout with the Dark Mark. He walked over to where Ron had pulled Fred from the bed, and as both boys wrapped an arm around Fred to try and help him walk, they found they were only dragging him instead.

After a few minutes, Ron and Harry realized that it was hopeless trying to make him walk in his condition. "He's not going anywhere this way," Ron said. "We certainly wouldn't get him very far."

Ron and Harry carefully laid Fred back down on the bed, where he almost immediately fell into a deep slumber again (though he had only barely opened his eyes when he'd been standing).

"Angelina-do it like that again..." he muttered, grinning.

Ron sniggered at the irony. "At least he's happy, lucky bloke. We're sitting here in mortal peril and he thinks he's somewhere out on Veela Island."

"We could go a short ways and then rest-just keep working our way out of here little by little," Hermione offered.

"Hermione-we're pretty sure Voldemort's camped out in that ruined castle up there," Harry said. "That's where Valeria was taking me, that's where the dementors came from...I'd be willing to bet that's where he is right now. And he's going to see us heading off across the valley, then probably cut us off. Maybe that's even what he's waiting for."

"Besides, it's after two o'clock now, there are only a few hours left until dark," Ron added. "It would help cover us if we left in the dark, but we don't have any idea where we're going. And if Harry's right, the dark won't bother-" he took a deep breath "-"Voldemort."

"I think that's where he is, too. But you know-I'm not sure that Tom can move around a lot on his own-out of the castle, I mean," Valeria said.

Everyone turned to look at her. "What makes you say that?" Harry asked.

"He gets really upset because he has to do something with this silver ball all the time and he hates that, but he's afraid to stop it, too, for some reason. He has to concentrate really hard when the ball is spinning. That's why he only came to my mind-he could bring the ball along there very easily."

Hermione furrowed her brow at mention of the silver ball. "Did he have this 'ball' before?"

"Ever since I met him," Valeria replied. "But he's only had to keep it spinning since I've been in Ireland, I think. Still, he doesn't always come to my mind, either-he usually just sends the Muertos, so I can't be completely sure."

Hermione had been quite involved in the conversation to this point, but now appeared to be absorbed in thoughts of her own.

"What if we cast _Mobilicorpus_on Fred? We could take him with us that way," George suggested.

"Even if the town's just down the road a bit, that would be a long way to keep a Levitating Spell up-even if we took turns," Harry said. "Besides, I'm not sure if he should be traveling far in his condition. Hermione and I could only do some basic first aid-he needs a lot more help than we could give him."

"We might be able to leave by morning, if Fred's improved at all," Ron said. "If we left early, when it was still dark, we might be able to sneak through the valley before it gets too light outside, then head out on the road. If we did make it past, well, you know-"it was clear that everyone _did_know, "-we'd just have to hope we didn't run into any Muggles wondering why we're out walking when one of our companions can't stand on his own."

"Better that than the Muggle police showing up while we're trying to keep him Levitated," George added.

Everyone sat quietly for a moment, thinking about the plan.

"So that's it then, " Harry said, rejoining the discussion. "Unless Fred's much worse or something in the morning, we start walking-everyone agreed?"

Hermione, Ron and George nodded their agreement.

"You're coming with us-right, Valeria?" Hermione asked sincerely.

Valeria looked up from where she had been sniffling and staring at her lap. She seemed surprised at the implied invitation. "Yes...sure, if it's okay," she said quietly.

Ron just stared at Hermione, dumbfounded. _What in the world went on in here for those five minutes I was gone? Hermione was never exactly mean to Valeria, she just acted like she didn't exist. Now, all of a sudden, Hermione's her friend?_

Hermione endured Ron's confounded stare for a minute or two, then looked up at him. "What?"

Ron snapped out of it, shaking his head a little. "Nothing, I'm sure."_Jeez, I will never get it with girls. I wonder if they make any more sense when they get older._

"Well, since it seems we're stuck here a bit longer, I reckon we'll need to be on guard all the time," Harry noted. "Hopefully, the dementors won't be able to regroup until after we've gone. But we'll have to keep a strict watch, anyway."

"And hopefully, they haven't just saved the worst for last," Ron said quietly. "What do you think, then? Two-hour guard shifts for sleeping tonight and-we may have to tie you up or Petrify you, Valeria."

Valeria nodded silently and sadly in agreement.

"Since we're staying, I suppose we might as well have a look at the Portkey again," Hermione said. "Maybe we can get it to re-set somehow and we won't have to walk out of here-we'd be able to just transport back to Hogwarts. It would be much better for Fred, if no one else. Did you get _anything_worked out on it, George?"

"No, not really. We were starting to try and de-program the timer from the last time you and Harry and Fred tried to use it, but we didn't get past the trying," George responded.

"Well, obviously Fred's not going to help you this time," Hermione added. "I don't know that much about Portkeys, precisely, but I do know a lot of basic spells. Do you think_ I _could help you with the re-set?"

"It's worth a try, I reckon," George said. "Now if we can just figure out what else keeps getting in the way..."

"I'm not sure," Hermione said slowly, "but I have an idea about what that might be, too. I'm don't know how to fix it yet, but if we can just manage to have the Portkey ready to activate at any time..." Hermione looked around the room for Fred's rucksack. "Where is it, anyway?"

"He had it there under the bed." George stood from the sofa and walked across the room to where his twin was sleeping. He got down on his hands and knees and looked under the bed. "Fred, I hate to speak ill of you when you can't defend yourself, but since you're havin' so much fun in those ruddy dreams, I will. You just throw everything everywhere, man-how do you _ever_find anything? You don't happen to have my sock down here, do you?" George muttered on as he looked for the rucksack.

Reaching far back under the bed, George swung everything he could grab out into the middle of the floor. Out slid the open rucksack, looking as if it had been blasted with an Explosion Curse, along with some tiny, bead-like black ovals that went skittering across the floor.

Hermione, Ron and Harry had followed George and now stood circled around him.

"What happened to_ that?"_Ron asked, eyeing the charred markings on the rucksack. "Did he have it with him outside?"

"No, he didn't take it," George answered.

"George is right," Harry said with certainty. "I never saw it when we were outside. It must have been under there the whole time; but why does it look like that?"

"Maybe when you blasted the wall, one of the fireballs-" Hermione said questioningly.

"No," Ron said, "because I looked over here to make sure nothing got onto Fred, and none of them came this far."

"Blast-it's not here," George said urgently, having by then emptied the contents of the rucksack onto the foot of Fred's bed.

"What?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "It has to be-unless one of you two moved it."

"No-I remember we had it out before the dementors came-we were going to work on it. Then Fred stuffed it back in the rucksack and kicked it over here under the bed just before we went outside."

Harry had been looking with interest at the tiny black bead-like pieces on the floor. "Ron, look at these."

"What-those?" Ron asked, moving to stare down at the specks intensely. "Ugh-I'd know what those were any day, after having that stupid animal for so long- rat dung. Why?"

"Because we're looking for a Portkey that we need, we can't find it, and those were down there with the rucksack," Harry explained. "Just like-"

"Just like with the wands!" Ron roared. "I told you that was no ordinary rat! Wonder where that little-" Ron's string of descriptive words regarding the rat made Hermione wince.

A thorough search of the cottage didn't turn up any clues regarding the Portkey.

"Where else-?" Harry asked, thinking, then he and Ron turned to each other together.

"Under the bush!" they said in unison.

The two boys jogged outside and Harry lifted the bottom branches of the same bush where they'd found the wands hidden. George and Hermione finally caught up with them and gathered around the bush as well.

"There it is! At least the stupid thing can't think of more than one hiding place!" Ron said, reaching down to grab the orange polka-dotted mass.

But as he picked up one edge of the hat and shook off a few more rat droppings, the opposite side slipped down, hanging by just a single thread. The Portkey hat had been chewed nearly clean through, and the threads around the edges were frayed and ragged. As Ron carefully lifted the one piece, the swinging motion of the hanging side caused it to break and drop, and the severed piece fell to the ground next to Ron's foot.

"That little-" Ron growled, "he's chewed it into two pieces. "It'll never work now."

"Well, I don't know," George said hopefully. "Both sides of it should still have some magic in them." George took the two pieces carefully from Ron and tried to fit them together like a jigsaw puzzle.

But the pieces acted as if they were in reverse polarity, like magnets. The sides pushed away from each other, and sparked ominously when they came near enough to touch. Everyone stared as a feeling of dread enveloped them for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

"We'll never be able to use that," Ron sighed dejectedly.

"Well-we aren't going anywhere until morning anyway. Might as well try to make it work," Hermione sighed. "What do you think, George?"

"I don't know," George replied, but sounded hopeful. "We might be able to use Repairing and Weaving Spells and such. How good are you with those? I know they're not my specialty."

"What do we have to lose? We're stuck here anyway. Let's get to work," Hermione said.

"What do you want us to do?" Ron asked. "Can we help or-?"

"I know what you can do," George said. "But I almost hate to think about it. I've _got_to have something to eat, and as much as I hate to say it, I think our only choice is-"

"Fish," Harry and Ron said disgustedly, in unison.

"All right-we'll head for the creek," Harry said. "But if anything happens, or even looks like it might, fire red sparks as high as you can, shout, whatever-just get us back up here."

"Trust us, Harry, we will," George said. "We don't want to start _anything_ without you. And jeez-Ron-see if you can find anything _else_ to eat out there."

# # #

Snuffles saw Moody stop several dozen paces ahead, waiting for him. It was precisely at their appointed place, his mind told him from somewhere, one kilometer north of the little Irish town. The large, black dog could already tell how angry the old Auror was, just from his stance at the side of the road.

Approaching Moody with a carefree prance, Snuffles walked to within several feet of the man and stopped, his ears perked and his tail wagging slowly. Moody didn't appear to notice the prize he carried in his mouth.

Moody began to say something, then just as quickly stopped, wheeled around and stepped off into the trees at a brisk pace. Once the man and the dog had found a little clearing deep enough into the woods so as not to be seen from the road, Snuffles transformed into Sirius, who happened to be looking very satisfied with himself.

"Okay, Black, what have you got for me?" Moody demanded. "And after that little performance in town, it had better be good."

"Oh," Sirius responded, a bit taken aback. "I'm thinking by your tone that you can't possibly mean- this." Sirius held out the somewhat bloody, partial leg-bone of some animal, obviously professionally butchered, with some scraps of red meat dangling from it. "Mutton-it's _mutton_, Moody. Do you know how long it's been since I've had some really good mutton?"

Moody appeared horrified. "_What_ are you going to do with_that?"_

Sirius' enthusiasm over the mutton was waning somewhat as he studied the meat-bone further. "Well, I was going to share it with you, but now I'm not so sure what made me think you'd be interested. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"_Don't_do me any favors. Throw it-away," Moody said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, you can't mean that," Sirius said. But one look at Moody's determined expression told Sirius that he did. The younger wizard sighed. "All right. At least someone in these woods will have a feast tonight. Oh, but it's such a waste. If only Moony were here...he'd understand. He and I have shared many a treat like this together..."

Moody just grunted a response and watched Sirius pitch the bone deeper into the woods.

"After all, it was just a little token the shopkeeper gave me for getting information from_ him," _Sirius said smugly.

Having arrived in Ireland just before dark last evening after their talk with Dumbledore, Moody and Snuffles had walked to the little village nearby to see what information they could glean from the townsfolk. They were hoping to find any clue at all about the whereabouts of the missing students, or perhaps even listen in on any random gossip about five young people who might have wandered through the town, or been seen by its citizens.

The Auror had held his Integration Certification for some time now, enabling him to move among Muggle society whenever he felt the need, whether it be for official or unofficial business. Of course, Sirius held no such certification, but his method of moving among the Muggles unnoticed was just as effective as it had been for the wizarding community.

Moody took a room at a small country inn, paying with Irish bills and coins that he had ordered from the Ministry through Gringotts, then collected from Hogwarts once the money had been forwarded there. The inn had its own tiny pub and eatery in the main building, but since it was one of the few public places in town, it was also one of the places the townspeople chose to gather. Moody counted his blessings that his luck had run so good thus far.

Snuffles, irritated that he was not allowed into the dining areas or (supposedly) into the guest quarters of the inn, was forced to lie outside on the stoop. As any good guard dog would do, Snuffles moved occasionally from place to place, making sure that he had an unobstructed view of Moody as the Auror 'worked the room', trying to move inconspicuously and pick up on as many conversations as possible. Finally, much later in the evening, Snuffles saw Moody glance out the window toward him, then leave the pub via an inside hallway to retire to his room.

After repeated attempts to scratch his way through Moody's guest room window, Snuffles had finally irritated the older man enough so that he was allowed in to sleep a few hours by the fire. But before they'd settled down, Sirius transformed into wizard form briefly so that Moody could share what little information he had gathered.

Most of what Moody had discovered was that the Ministry of Magic was going to have a nasty mess to clean up and settle down even if the students were found otherwise uneventfully. The townspeople had begun to believe that a certain area to the north of their village was the site of some very peculiar happenings. Being a superstitious group, they thought that the castle ruin must have something to do with the odd ways that the weather was behaving and that something evil was at work there. But as long as it came no nearer to their town, they were just as content to let it be.

It seemed to Moody that some of the villagers had been on the verge of telling him more, but as subtle as he was with his questions, the general wariness of 'outsiders' (especially one with gnarled features, eyes that wandered, and a wooden peg leg) eventually took over. So that was where the information stopped.

Finally, the two men discussed the early hour they would rise; once out of town, the two would Apparate north as far as the barrier would allow. They would then try to hike to McInerney's Valley, the Muggle name for the site of the Quidditch match.

Moody had one more stop he wanted to make in the early morning before they departed: the village general store. He knew that often when people shopped, they would chat and leave tidbits of information behind-Auror training had taught him the shopkeepers were often more aware of who was doing what in town than even the sheriff-and that was true in both Muggle and wizarding societies. It was also fortunate for the rescue team that the general store opened very early in the morning to cater to the locals of the farming community.

Snuffles was once again left outside (with a strong admonition from Moody to "Stay!"). He spent several minutes staring through the front window at the Auror as the older man wandered through the store, selecting a small can here, a packet there, and putting the items in a basket. Moody then approached the counter where Snuffles could see a plump, sour-looking woman; they began to converse.

It was driving the dog mad that he could not hear. He couldn't always understand everything as Snuffles, but it continually amazed him how much he actually_ did _remember once he returned to wizard form, when he could then process any necessary information at will.

A withered and doddering old man had been inside the store before Moody, hobbling about and inspecting items on the shelf. He seemed to be muttering complaints to himself as he tossed the items back on the shelf and finally moved toward the door. As the old man gathered strength to haul himself over the threshold, Snuffles made a hurried plan and quickly ran by the man's legs once the door was open, knocking him off-balance.

The old man balled up a gnarled fist and shook it at Snuffles, crying, "Hey! _Hey!"_

But apparently the woman at the counter was accustomed to ignoring the old man's fussing, because that was exactly what she did. Besides, from her vantage point she could see absolutely no sign of a large, black dog now hiding behind several barrels of onions and oddly pink-tinged potatoes.

The woman abruptly stopped her conversation with Moody about the weather and looked at him quizzically. "We don't get many strangers here in town, but I had someone in here the other day..." she trailed off, eyeing him carefully. "Yeh have any family in these parts?"

"No. No, can't say as I do," Moody replied, seemingly trying to be offhand, but looking a bit concerned at what the woman might have up her sleeve.

"Say, yer not the one who knows how to fly, now are yeh?"

Snuffles watched as Moody tried to cover his expression of surprise. He appeared to think carefully before answering with a question. "Why would you think that?"

"Er-someone mentioned something about the airfield. Yeh ever been to the airfield?" The woman watched very carefully at every word and expression that Moody made.

Moody looked a bit relieved. "Oh. Oh,_ airplanes,_" he said almost automatically, sounding too relieved, then apparently realizing it was too late for him to take it back.

Snuffles watched as Moody returned his gaze to the woman's face only to find her looking down her nose at him and narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"Well, I think we're done here," the woman said in a not-so-subtle attempt to dismiss him. She set the few items he'd purchased in a plastic bag and shoved it across the counter at Moody.

Moody seemed to be trying to think of another way to restart the conversation and stay. But the woman would have none of it.

"Fletcher! Can yeh come out here a minute?" she called to someone in the back.

"In a minute, Maggie, I'm-" a male voice answered.

_"Fletcher!"_

The intensity of her voice caused Moody to collect his bag and prepare to leave, but not before a kind-looking man appeared. What contrasted quite drastically with his mild expression was the enormous meat cleaver he carried in one hand, dripping what was obviously fresh blood on the floor as he walked.

"What do yeh need, woman?" the man asked. "Look at what yer making me do." He nodded at the floor.

There was no verbal response, just a glare from Maggie to Fletcher that gave him no option on whether or not he was staying.

Moody understood it was time to go. "Thank you so much for your kindness," he said, dipping his head and turning toward the door.

Snuffles drew back behind the barrels. He thought Moody was safely past him, but the dog watched the back of the Auror's head as it nearly passed through the door, then the older man suddenly turned and developed an avid interest in the barrel of potatoes.

Not understanding how Moody would suddenly sense his presence, Snuffles just gazed up at him. Watching Moody roll his eyes emphatically in the direction of the door, Snuffles simply stood and wagged his tail, indicating that he had no plans to go anywhere just then. Moody tried once more to urge him to go, but then glanced at the two people behind the counter. He apparently realized that should he stay any longer, it would cause a very unwelcome scene, one that the two outsiders to the town could ill afford to make.

Moody narrowed his eyes and set his jaw, sending a threatening expression at the dog. He then walked out the door.

Snuffles tried to listen carefully after the tinkling bell above the door had ceased its clamor. He could see that the shopkeepers had been waiting for the same thing. But as they turned to one another to begin a conversation, Snuffles crawled on his belly to a spot directly below the counter to make certain he could hear clearly.

The two people began to talk about a girl who had been at the store. Snuffles tried hard to keep in his mind all that he could, because something reminded him it was important to listen for anything about girls and boys and young people.

Maggie went on and on to Fletcher about how she thought that Moody must have been the girl's uncle, because she'd just been in here a few days before, and he looked like one of those strange ones that would like to fly all about in planes as if they were birds. She reminded Fletcher that strangers hardly ever came through their town and now there had been two in one week. Maggie claimed that she had watched as the girl left town and headed north. North of town was where all those evil things were happening and the place must be cursed. Now, lo and behold, along comes this very strange-looking man asking too many questions about young people in town. Something had to be fishy around here, she ranted on...

Fletcher did not seem half as interested in Maggie's deductive reasoning as she was, but threw in an occasional "mm-hmm" as he finished cleaning the floor behind the counter.

Suddenly, all conversation stopped and Snuffles, who thought he had been hidden by the counter, looked up. He could see two faces hanging directly above him from over the counter: one sour, the other serious, yet friendly.

"Shoo, dog! How did you get in here? Shooo!" the woman said, flapping her hands at Snuffles wildly.

But Snuffles decided to play dumb mutt and simply stared back, tongue hanging out and tail wagging. The woman finally walked into the back room in frustration, ordering Fletcher to "get rid of the filthy beast!"

Fletcher, after spending a few minutes rubbing Snuffles' head instead of throwing him out, walked to the back and returned with a freshly butchered mutton bone. He gave it to the dog before ushering him to the door, and sending the animal through it.

"So that's how I got the mutton, and that's how I got the information," Sirius boasted.

"Well, don't expect _me_to give you some carved-up piece of animal carcass just for filling me in," Moody said gruffly.

"Wouldn't think of it," Sirius replied. He then fashioned an expression of innocent interest on his face. "But-how is it they teach you to get information in Auror school, Mooody?"

The Auror shook his head slowly, no doubt at the implication-and definitely at the way the name was said, Sirius thought almost proudly. Moody was such an easy target.

"We've got to get going," Moody said, and flinging his rucksack across his back, he started to walk toward the road.

Sirius followed after him, when Moody turned around and glared. "Aren't you... forgetting something?"

"Oh-right," Sirius replied and promptly became Snuffles again.

The old man and the dog walked for several hours, up to the farmer's field where they'd landed when they first slid down the barrier. Just to better understand what they were dealing with, Moody spent a half hour resting as Snuffles dug as deep as he could next to where the barrier should have been. (Of course, the Auror had to move once or twice when Snuffles got a bit overzealous with the digging, 'accidentally' showering Moody with fresh, damp soil.) Moody's occasional testing with his wand proved as they had both thought: the barrier went deep into the ground as well, certainly as far as the dog could dig.

Ready to move on and head for the easternmost, and easiest path to hike into McInerney's Valley, Moody walked through the barrier first, expecting Snuffles to follow. But it took several tries and an amount of brainstorming to realize that Snuffles could only pass the barrier as Sirius, while the magic to make him an Animagus was not in use. Once inside, however, he could become Snuffles again.

"So the barrier isn't, then, a magic-free zone," Moody said, "-just that magic can't pass through its surface. That's quite a comforting thought when you know that you're dealing with dementors at the very least."

He looked down at Snuffles, who was growling and baring his teeth at the mention of dementors.

"Look at it this way. When we get to the summit of the pass in another hour or so, you'll be perfectly equipped to search out Harry's scent in that valley and track him to wherever he might be," Moody said encouragingly. "Count your blessings, Black. Your Animagus form could have been a wild boar-or a cockroach-how much good would that have done us?"

Snuffles looked up into the Auror's face, barked twice, and padded ahead on the trail, careful to keep his nose to the ground the whole time.


	24. Repairs and Rendings

****

** ~~Chapter 24~~  
Repairs and Rendings**

"Yeah--from what I understand of Portkeys, it seems like it should work," George agreed. "The mechanics of the spell work--it's just a matter of remembering the right order to cast the adjustments, if it turns out we need to make them once the magical sequence is started."

Flopping back onto her seat on the bench after being hunched over the table, Hermione had been focused intently on resolving the problem with the Portkey. George was seated on the opposite side of the stone table, with Valeria sitting quietly next to him, watching closely as George and Hermione worked.

Hermione could tell that Valeria was obviously fascinated by what was going on before her--even if there really wasn't much to see. The haunted girl was somewhat calmer now after George had managed to use a Suspension Spell and a blanket to cover the Dark Mark on the wall. The only thing was, none of them could truly forget what lay beneath the blanket anyway.

After their little talk of earlier today, Hermione had decided that maybe Valeria really wasn't so bad after all. True, she was still dangerous to them, but at least she was trying to resist the dementors and Voldemort. Hermione could now understand better that Valeria was as much a victim as any of them were, and maybe with Ron's help, she'd be able to resist the evil completely, long enough for all of them to get to safety.

As she set her wand on the table to try straightening the chewed threads, the corner of her mouth turned up a little.

_Hmmm...with Ron's help..._ Hermione repeated in her mind.

_Why didn't I ever see Ron like that? I always knew I could depend on him to save Harry, or me--but that always seemed like something just the three of us would do for one another. Why didn't I ever see him the same way Valeria must have --as the only one in the entire world who could help her?_

You think you know him so well, Hermione-how could you have even thought he'd be unfair to you? You should have known so much better. Ron would never do that--and especially--not to you.

He's been trying to show you that he cares. Remember the feeling he sent you when you were fighting the dementors--how could you ever deny that? Just the memory of the feeling Ron had given her sent such fierce shivers through her that her whole body shook.

"You cold?" George asked.

She had trouble understanding him beyond her own thoughts--and _wonderful _feelings. "Cold? Oh--er,..no." It took her a moment to realize that they'd witnessed her daydreaming about Ron. Deeply thankful that it wasn't one of them who could share her feelings like he could, she felt her face start to burn.

"Hermione--hullo," George called teasingly. "Those won't get any longer from pulling at them--and I still don't think that'll help them connect with the other side."

She looked at her hands, since she'd been completely unaware of what they were doing, and found they were repeatedly pulling softly at the fringe on the Portkey. "Oh...sorry," she said.

George glanced sideways at Valeria, one eyebrow raised and rolling his eyes in Hermione's direction. Valeria returned the look with a shy smile.

The door swung open noisily. Ron and Harry strode through the opening, Harry carrying a string with seven good-sized trout hanging on it and Ron holding his shirt-front out before him, obviously carrying something in it he thought was of great importance.

"Look what we found!" Ron said excitedly. He walked to the side of the table next to Hermione and gently lowered the front edge of his shirt. Out onto the table rolled a large number of small, red objects. "Strawberries! Wild strawberries! All of the sunshine here must have ripened them early!"

"Yeah, I see who the sportsman of the two of you is," George joked. "Our man Harry is off angling trout, while Ronnie's skipping through the forest collecting strawberries..."

Ron reddened and narrowed his eyes as Valeria giggled, Hermione briefly smiled behind her hand, and George grinned smugly to himself at the mental image of his little brother.

Ron, George, and Valeria immediately reached out and grabbed a berry, rubbing it briefly to clean it before stuffing it into their mouths.

Well-- two of them managed to get it to their mouth. Ron waited until George had a berry within inches of his lips, then promptly reached out and smacked his brother's hand to the side, effectively sending the strawberry flying into the wall.

"_You're_ the one who wanted something else to eat so badly, as I remember. And I caught fish, too!" Ron said defensively. "Don't think you're going to make up with me now--it's too late--_you're_ not getting _any_." Ron leaned in close to his brother's face to deliver the last sentence.

But Hermione noticed that when George reached for another berry, Ron only slapped his hand lightly again, then said and did nothing else to stop him.

"Speaking of sunshine, I don't think there'll be much tomorrow," Harry said, obviously trying to change the subject and laying the trout down on the counter. "That fog's really pouring in here."

"The fog's coming in?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah--we weren't sure we'd be able to find our way back up here very easily if we waited until it got any darker," Ron answered. "Worse yet--we were afraid we _would _find our way off the cliff."

"Perfect!" Hermione said, giving George a meaningful look and finally seeing Ron's confused one. "For the fog, I mean. Now if it only stays foggy long enough. Do you think we can get the timer set back to tonight, George?"

"That'd be great, but I think that's way too optimistic," George answered. "If we can manage to open the portal time as much as possible, we might be able to get, say, twelve hours out of it--"

"All right, all right," Ron interrupted. "For those of us who were out trying to find enough food to keep you scientific types going--and who, I might add, succeeded famously--fill us in on what _you've_ been doing in here."

George began. "First of all, the Portkey. We think we've got the basic mechanics of the spell to work on both pieces. But we have to make a few adjustments as to how we use it. We started with a Portkey that was equipped to handle five people, but the Portkey is now chewed in two. That means that now we can't send more than three people with each piece of it. At least, we think that's the way it'll have to work."

"You _think?"_ Ron asked.

"Well--it _should_ work that way," George continued. "The big drawback is that we have no way to test it until we actually try and use it. So--there'll be two groups. The next thing is that the two pieces of the Portkey now work in reverse polarity for some reason, which means they'll oppose each other if we try and use them at the same time. So the two groups won't be able to transport together, either."

"How far apart do the groups have to be, time-wise?" Harry asked.

"We don't think it would have to be more than about ten or fifteen minutes," Hermione responded. "But we're not really sure about that either."

Harry and Ron looked at one another and took a deep breath, eyebrows raised.

"Now the next part is a little 'iffy'..." George said, glancing at Hermione before going on.

"We're only _now_ coming to the 'iffy' part?" Ron questioned, looking a bit concerned.

Hermione spoke up now. "There's a chance that the magic of the Portkey could weaken before we get to Hogwarts because the integrity of the original spell was broken. To me, it's sort of like an eggshell. Once it's been broken, you can put all of the pieces back and fit them together, but they'll never be quite the same as the eggshell was in the beginning."

"Humpty Dumpty," Harry said quietly, lost in thought.

"What?" Ron asked him.

"Er...never mind--so--how do you fix that?" Harry asked.

"Well...you have to make adjustments as you go along," Hermione explained. "After the magic of the transport has begun, someone from within has to be sensitive enough to the power of the magic to keep it constant and level--if it changes, they need to cast certain spells--adjusting from the inside out, in a way."

"So...you two know how to do this?" Ron asked doubtfully.

"Well, Hermione seems to think she can--and she's explained it well enough to me so that I think I could do it, too," George said. "Which means--Hermione will have to go with one Portkey group, and I'll have to go with the other."

Harry and Ron both turned to Hermione, but it was Ron who spoke first. "Do you really think we should try this? I mean, we could walk out--we already planned it. It's true, we could get into trouble with the Ministry or something if we're caught-- but caught is a lot better than dead, or splinched, or whatever happens when your Portkey loses power. Do we even _know _exactly what happens?"

Hermione silently shook her head, then Ron and Harry looked to George.

"No, I don't know, either. But I reckon it would be pretty ugly," he said.

"But I'm almost sure I can make it work," Hermione said. She appealed to both of her best friends, looking up at them from the bench as they towered over her. "You know I wouldn't put any of you in danger if I didn't think I could make it work. Unless I was sure, I wouldn't take Harry in my group because we'll be going first."

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but this time Harry got it out first.

"Wait a minute--this is a whole new problem. Who goes when?"

Hermione looked at George once more for support. "Well, we were going to ask both of you, too, but George thinks I should take the first group because then when we get to Hogwarts, I can help pull from there at the same time the second group is transporting from here. That way, if George has any trouble with the spells, or the power weakens, we can help out. And I'm sure Dumbledore can do more than I can think of to do, once we've found our way to Hogwarts."

"Tell me, Hermione,_ why_ am I in the first group back when I'm the only one who's survived facing Voldemort?" Harry asked, a bit irritated.

Hermione grimaced a bit at what she had to say. "That's exactly why we think you should go first. We can't afford for Voldemort to get to you again."

Harry just grimaced as well, and folded his arms over his chest.

Ron was trying to mentally group everyone. "So--you and Harry are in the first group back to Hogwarts. Who else? Fred, I hope?"

"Exactly," George said. "That way Hermione and Harry can get him to Madam Pomfrey as soon as possible. There should only be a few minutes difference between the groups, if it works at all, but we just went on who needed to get there the most urgently. Plus, the first group will try and warn Dumbledore about Valeria being in the second group--we don't want to leave her here, but you've heard what kind of a violation it is to transport a Muggle onto Hogwarts grounds."

"It sounds like you have this all worked out then. What about if the Portkey doesn't work and bounces us back again?" Ron asked.

"Could happen," George admitted. "But Professor Granger thinks she's got that one figured out, too."

"You do?" Harry asked.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure, but again, it's the best we've got," Hermione said. "It has to do with the ball that Valeria was talking about--that Voldemort has. She said he seems very focused on keeping that ball spinning, especially since we've been here in Ireland. I remember reading in this book, _Truth Be Told: Fact or Legend_, about a legendary orb that could be used to shield this town from attackers. It started as a reflective ball and the wizard controlling it could enlarge it to a great size, but it also required a great deal of energy, concentration, and practice from the spell caster."

"I think I remember Binns talking about that," Harry said. "But that was just a legend, wasn't it? He didn't act like there was any truth to it, aside from the fact that the wizard who created it supposedly did exist. Remember, Ron?"

"In Binns' class?" Ron replied, sounding as if the thought was rather ridiculous. "Sorry--History of Magic is where I catch up on my beauty sleep."

Hermione flashed Ron a scowl. "So this orb sets a spherical spell and keeps anything magical from coming from the outside in," Hermione explained. "I'm guessing that would also mean that nothing magical would be able to get from the inside out."

"Are you thinking something like that is what's keeping the Portkey from working?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded her head, but before she could answer, an expression of revelation crossed Ron's face. "The fog! Is that what's holding back the fog? I've been watching it for you to see if I could make some sense of it for you, Hermione. But every day, it just looked pretty much the same. Just walls of fog out over the ocean and the land in the distance, with clear, sunny air in between."

"Exactly," Hermione agreed. "Only once or twice has the fog come in--maybe those were times that Voldemort couldn't keep the spell going for whatever reason. But those walls of fog--think of their shape. Were they flat around the sides, like the castle walls? Squared at the corners?"

Ron and Harry looked at one another, thinking.

"They were rounded, weren't they? Like the inside of a sphere would be!" Harry said.

"It even looked like it curved a little at the top from what you could see, but I always thought it was some optical illusion because of the curve of the earth or something," Ron said. "Hermione, you're brilliant, as usual. That's got to be it!"

Hermione smiled and blushed a bit at Ron's gushing, holding his gaze for what seemed like an extra-long moment as he stood above her.

"And yes--," she continued, "I think that's why the Portkey might be bouncing us back--when it's in motion, the orb's spell won't let us through. So the fact that there's fog tonight means we might stand a better chance..."

"But we can't get the Portkey to work tonight, can we?" Harry asked.

"No, I don't think so," George said dejectedly. "None of us could eliminate the default timer. The best we can do is to stretch the portal time--sort of open the window wider. The default is set to go at nine o'clock tomorrow night, forty-nine hours after the last time you tried. With a lot of luck, we might be able to re-set the window forward to nine o'clock in the morning--something like that."

"Well, that's a big improvement over waiting till tomorrow night or walking out," Ron said."We can try it in the morning, and if it doesn't work, then we can walk." He appeared to think of something, then looked at Hermione with a strange expression. "Unless you think it might be better just to walk ourselves out anyway."

"No," Hermione said, looking at Fred as he slept. "I think we should at least try the Portkey, especially if the fog's in. If we're right about the orb, it may mean that defeating the dementors weakened Voldemort."

"Ha!" Harry scoffed. "That Orb Spell may be down, but that doesn't mean he's weak. _Never_ underestimate him."

With that gruesome thought in mind, the group moved on to other tasks: Harry, Ron and Valeria began to clean and prepare to cook the fish--Hermione and George worked with the 'window' on the timer.

Once the fish was cooked, along with the last of their potatoes, everyone took some of each on their 'plates'. They divided up the strawberries equally and settled down near the sofa to eat quietly--everyone except Hermione. She stubbornly sat at the stone divider, determined to figure out how to stretch the portal time longer.

Seeing that Hermione hadn't gotten anything for herself to eat, Ron quietly put some fish and potatoes on her plate along with her portion of the strawberries; he set it down on the table at the side of where she worked.

Hermione looked up briefly and thanked him, but went right back to her undertaking. Ron moved away, apparently not wanting to interrupt what she was doing.

Completely absorbed in her spell-casting trials, Hermione looked up again briefly to call across the room to George, where he was seated on the sofa eating with Harry and Valeria. She questioned him on how the woven threads would move a bit differently when the Testing Spell was cast once the timer window had been enlarged, then again set about intensifying the effect to open it further.

Hermione had unintentionally ignored her plate of food for a half hour or so, when she noticed from the corner of her eye that another plate was being set down next to it. But that second plate had only strawberries left on it and was attached to a long, freckled arm.

Visually, she barely noticed when Ron straddled the bench to sit down next to her. But her other senses, as always, not only knew that it was him, but they drew in the comforting but provocative heat that only his closeness could bring.

"Hermione--you've got to eat something," he said quietly. "I'm not trying to interrupt your work on that --but you can't go all day without eating. Besides, we can't have you fainting of hunger in the middle of the transport, right? "

Hermione looked over at Ron momentarily. She knew he was trying to be kind, but she was really worried about the whole Portkey issue, and she didn't have much of an appetite. Even though it was all they knew how to do, she also didn't feel that she and Harry had done enough to help Fred. She really wanted to be able to use the Portkey safely instead of trying to walk out, just to get Fred some mediwizard attention that much sooner. "I know I should, but I'm just not hungry. I'll be okay--and I don't have the time."

"No, you need to eat--something," Ron insisted. "I know--be right back."

Hermione's brow wrinkled in confusion as she felt him stand and heard him walk across the cottage and out of the door. She could tell once he'd come back that he'd been to the well to wash his hands, but she had no idea what the urgency had been.

Ron returned to his seat next to her, stepping one leg over the bench before sitting to face her. But this time, he sat even closer. His one knee rested on the bend of hers under the table and the other behind her--she knew he'd done that on purpose, but she was determined to ignore what it did to her--after all, she had work to do.

She could feel his eyes on her as she continued casting her spells. It was actually a bit unnerving, especially when the thought of the feeling he'd sent her today during the battle returned very clearly in her mind. Though she wanted to talk with him about it, she knew there wasn't time right now--they had to get away from here. Besides--his feelings had been so strong--she was a bit overwhelmed by them and wasn't sure what to say.

But one thing Hermione did know for certain--she recalled feeling more joyfully complete than ever before when Ron's feelings had poured into her mind and her heart. She had forgotten how wonderfully whole she felt when she allowed his connection to pull the two of them together. Ron's feelings for her had grown since that first time they were connected months ago--the emotions felt fuller now, more complex and mature; even though the two of them weren't connected at this moment, the memory alone made her blush.

Though she tried to resist it, the warmth of Ron's knees against her, his body so close, and the stubborn memories all built like a wave until they finally broke over her. _This_ was why it was always so hard to ignore him--or stay angry with him for long--her senses simply had their own mind made up about him and they refused to listen to reason. Some long-absent butterflies tickled at the pit of her stomach and another round of rampaging shivers coursed through her.

Hermione knew Ron could feel her trembling. Glancing at him, she found him looking at her knowingly, but then he curiously acted clueless about the whole thing. She could have sworn she saw him consciously erase a tiny smile from his face.

"Shivering, Hermione?--Are you cold?" Ron asked her in a much too innocent-sounding voice.

Hermione glared at him for a few seconds before responding. "No--not exactly." She stared into his eyes, using her own weapons until he could no longer face her.

Ron turned away and looked at the food on the two plates in front of him. "All right--you're not going to eat on your own. That leaves me no choice, you know." He broke off a piece of fish with his fingers and moved it up to her mouth. "Come on now--open up."

"Ron, I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself if I want to eat, and I don't want--"

"Uh-uh! No talking--just eating--and thinking," Ron interrupted, pushing the fish into her mouth as she tried to continue talking. The bite he gave her was the size of what he would ordinarily put in his own mouth; she had trouble chewing because it made hers so full.

"I won't have you accuse me of keeping you from doing whatever it is-- with that," Ron continued, gesturing at the Portkey in her hand. "So just work--and eat. I won't say anything. Pretend I'm not here."

Hermione had already been trying hard to ignore the goose bumps running down her leg on the side where he sat. "Oh, yes. That ought to work," she said sarcastically. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Ron ignored her. "Here--try another one of these-they're _really_ good."

"I know. I had some before, but you don't need--"

Ron stuffed a strawberry between her lips, effectively cutting off her sentence. But he was right--they did taste really good, especially after the dry potatoes and the fish that they were all so tired of eating. Maybe she _was_ hungrier than she thought she was. Now that something was getting to her stomach, she was feeling better: less tense--and hungrier by the moment.

Hermione looked at him again, gratefully this time. _Valeria was right-- I __am__ lucky. Now if only I had the ability to Disapparate everyone else in the cottage, along with Voldemort and the dementors and all the rest of the evil in the world, and I could just have Ron..._

She smiled at him, and he gave her one of his irresistible grins. Maybe everything was going to be all right, after all. But suddenly the thought of Voldemort made her brow furrow, and she turned back to the Portkey. Perhaps if they could all get back to Hogwarts--and safety--maybe then it really could be just her and Ron, at least once in a while, like before.

Though she could tell that Ron noticed the difference in the direction of her thinking, she could also tell that he understood, though she wasn't sure how. Hermione picked up her wand and went back to work with the Portkey, seriously trying once more to elongate the time portal that might allow them to leave before the fog went back out.

_In the meantime, maybe another strawberry would help me think..._ Hermione reached for a berry herself this time, and continued popping the fruits into her own mouth without thought until her plate was almost empty.

Hermione glanced up for a moment at the others. George was finishing his food on the other side of the room, talking animatedly with Valeria. Harry was trying to help Fred get some water down, since he'd awakened thirsty. Once he'd finished with that and Fred rolled over to sleep some more, Harry returned to his chair near the sofa and continued his earlier conversation with George.

Hermione never noticed when Ron switched plates with her after she'd finished everything on her own. He was leaning in close to her, but seemed to be trying to keep his word in not purposely distracting her. (She wondered if he realized just how distracting his simple presence was--but she knew he couldn't help that.)

"Ergh--now look what you've done--I've eaten too much," she said after forty-five straight minutes of working with intermittent eating. She looked curiously at the two empty plates before her. She knew that Ron had eaten nothing the whole time; he had just been watching her work. "What happened to your strawberries?"

Ron looked at his empty plate strangely, then shrugged. "I don't know. I ate them before, I think."

She looked at him accusingly. "No, you didn't." Hermione then figured out just who _had_ eaten his strawberries. "But Ron--I know how much you like them!"

"So what?" he replied, apparently realizing she was on to him. "You were hungry."

Thinking that there were times when Ron could be so sweet she could hardly stand it without getting teary, she leaned her head into his chest and could hear his heart beating hard next to her ear. She lifted her chin a bit, staring into his eyes as he gazed down at her burrowed into his chest, and it was then that Ron leaned close to kiss her.

But just before his lips met hers, Hermione realized that they had an audience. George and Harry seemed unable to help themselves from staring at her and Ron's impending kiss, as Valeria tried to feign interest in something in her lap instead. Ron seemed oblivious to the fact that all conversation in the room had stopped, and he wasn't turned to face George and Harry straight on as she was.

The stares got to Hermione just before Ron did. She suddenly became intimidated, and as Ron's lips approached hers, she turned her cheek to him and looked down. She winced as he ended up kissing her cheek, and she felt his heart-wrenching sigh of discouragement against the side of her face.

"Awww, nice try, Ron," George said in mock disappointment, holding his thumb and forefinger up about an inch apart. "You missed it by only that much."

Hermione cringed. Between being absorbed in Ron and her spells, she realized that she'd been almost completely unaware of George, Harry, and Valeria--that they were witness to her and Ron sitting close, and his feeding her, and the two of them gazing at one another. She and Ron had never been so affectionate in front of others before, even when they were getting along--but right now it just felt so right to be close to him again.

"What? _What?" _Ron questioned as George's words finally sunk in.

Both Hermione and Ron turned beet red. For George, Valeria, and Harry it had been either watch or move, and there was really nowhere else to go, except to climb up to the tiny loft or go outside into the cold darkness.

Harry probably hadn't intended to invade Ron and Hermione's privacy (as if there _was_ any in the tiny cottage), but was likely staring in shock at something he'd been anticipating for a much longer time than Ron and Hermione themselves.

George was another matter. "And don't bother trying to stand up either--because you're probably stuck to the bench with all that goo that's oozing about over there! Ron, would you just kiss her right and get it over with?! I need to come over there and concentrate on the Portkey, but I can't do it with you two all over each other like that!"

Ron firmly but gently pushed Hermione away from him, just enough so that he could stand up. "Forget it!" he said irritably, then turned on Harry and George. "And thanks a bloody lot-- stupid gits!" At that, he wheeled around and stormed from the cottage, crunching across the gravel outside.

Hermione wiped a tear of embarrassment and sadness from her cheek with the back of her hand, picked up her wand, and went back to work on the Portkey. She decided to ignore George and Harry, because she knew that looking at them would only bring on a flood of tears that would do no one any good tonight. But she couldn't hold back the flood of thoughts pouring into her mind.

_So you're wondering what's so hard about giving in to your feelings--because you know what's going to happen, don't you? Once you take that tiny little step that's left, throw away that one fragile little piece of resistance, it's all over for you, isn't it? It's been there all this time, but you only let yourself see it tonight. True, once you give in, you'll be in a place where you could get hurt--but to have him, isn't it worth taking the chance?  
_

_You felt how much Ron wants it to work with you, too. He's done everything he promised that day in the Owlery --when he said he'd prove he wouldn't ever hurt you. Today when you felt how much he cares for you--he took a chance that you'd reject him, and he probably feels like you've done that now. You'd better get to him before he thinks that what he showed you today meant nothing . Give yourself permission to feel for him, Hermione, and let him know -- before it's too late._

_You may never get a second chance._


	25. In Ron We Trust

**~ Chapter 25 ~  
In Ron We Trust  
**

The sunshine warmed his skin as he stood looking over the familiar pond behind the Burrow. It was midsummer now and the promise of another hot afternoon had urged him to dress for the day in nothing but an old pair of cut-off Muggle jeans. He could feel the coolness of the new morning in the grass between his toes, and against his bare back a playful breeze blew lightly, breathing its last gasp before the heat of the afternoon drove it away. At least the peacefulness of this summer had given him enough time like this that he had finally tanned a bit, and he didn't have to worry about the harsh rays of the sun burning his pale skin.

But something else began to burn at his skin as he stood there, and all it did was cause him to grin like a madman. He felt something snake from both sides around his middle, but instead of looking down, he just closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of skin against skin--her bare arms soft and smooth around him, her legs against his, her bushy hair and her lips teasing at his back in a torturous mix of tickling and tingling.

That feeling was back again--the one that was so powerful and scary, and yet so tantalizing. But this time he wouldn't resist it any longer--they'd resisted long enough--he knew precisely how he wanted to make her feel, and--

"Ron?" she whispered.

Ron ignored how far away her voice sounded and made a low, throaty noise through his grin, then turned and growled, "C'mere." He twisted within the circle of her arms and reached his own around her, feeling her nearly-bare shoulders against his chest and her hair fluffing over his arm as he dove hungrily for her lips. The hot contact of skin against skin again was driving him mad...

"Ron--wake up. It's your turn," she said.

_What??? Augh-- bloody hell--don't tell me it's not real--it __**has **__to be real! Come on, come on, come on..._he wished, squeezing his eyelids together tighter as if that alone would grant his wish.  
_  
_Without really wanting to know the truth, he realized he might as well find his voice and check. "Hermione--" he pleaded, "tell me you can see the water lilies blooming."

There was a long pause.

"What?" she asked, sounding completely dumbfounded.

Ron sighed audibly. _Bugger--it's not bloody real,_ his mind told him in deep disappointment after hearing her voice.

"Damn!" Ron muttered aloud, finally realizing that not only was it just a dream, but he wasn't going to get to go back to sleep and finish it, either.

"You don't have be like that," she said. "I finished my time on watch, now it's your turn. You wanted me to wake you instead of setting Fred's watch to wake you," Hermione whispered.

Squinting and pushing himself up onto one elbow, Ron rubbed his eyes and didn't want to face how really far away he was from his idyllic dream. He was still stuck in Ireland, sleeping on a lumpy sofa, it was cold, and there might be dementors right outside the door, if not something worse.

Looking up, he thought he could see irritation on Hermione's face in the firelight as she leaned over him. _And worse than all of those things put together, she still hates me-yeah, some good that dream's gonna do!_"I know. It's just hard to wake up after two hours' sleep is all," Ron said.

"Well, I haven't had _any_ yet. So are you awake enough now? Or do you need me to talk to you some more until you are?" Hermione asked.

'I'm up, I'm up," Ron said, perching on the edge of the sofa after throwing his feet to the floor. "You can go on to bed." Ron rubbed his face with his hands and shook his head, knowing that the point of having someone on watch should be to actually _do_ something about a problem if it occurred. He glanced across the room at Valeria, who didn't appear exactly comfortable in the Full Body Bind they had decided to cast on her, but at least she was sleeping.

"All right," Hermione said, her arms crossed over her chest against the cold. But she didn't leave. She just stood there looking at him a moment before speaking in a softer voice. "Well--good night then."

Ron stood up to stretch his legs, just to make sure he'd stay awake. But once he was standing, the two of them were much too close for him to ignore it. The Undeniable Something was back--they were standing too close. _I can't see it, I can't touch it, but there it is--and it's so bloody irritating when I know she doesn't even want me to touch her. I know you feel it too, Hermione--look at you. Why can't you see what that means? That doesn't happen with anyone else--just you--and me. Ergh--it's no use._"Good night," Ron said dryly, fairly certain that he could never deal with just being friends when he knew that they could have, and _had_ had, so much more. It seemed like such a terrible waste, and over what?

Hermione still didn't leave. "Is--your arm all right?"

"It's felt better, but I'll survive," Ron responded, the mention of his injury causing it to twinge sharply. He grabbed at the bandaged gash with his other hand.

"Oh. Okay," Hermione said, watching him carefully. "Good night."

_What is she playing at here? _"Er, good night--again." He looked down, still trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

Hermione started to walk away, then quite suddenly reversed and turned back to Ron. Pushing herself up on tiptoes, she leaned forward to kiss him quickly at the corner of his mouth. The whole side of his face went warm and the rest of him suddenly shivered.

Hermione quickly turned and walked away toward the loft ladder, determinedly climbing the rungs without looking back.

Wondering briefly if he'd fallen asleep again and was still dreaming, Ron froze in place and closed his eyes, trying to decipher the meaning of what she'd done. He did, after all, see her kiss Harry goodbye at Kings Cross Station before they left for home last year. _But it wasn't exactly like that, so maybe..._a little voice inside of him was hoping with everything it had--then the miserable voice of reason broke in. _Nah, what she did just now probably meant nothing--she's just glad that everyone's okay after the battle this morning. I reckon it did no good to show her how I felt , when tonight she wouldn't even let me kiss her. That was just her way of making friends again. But, damn--it's going to be hard to be friends when I've made such a complete idiot out of myself over her._Ron walked around the room a number of times, trying to stir the blood in his veins. He was worried about waking everyone when they needed their sleep; they all did indeed seem to be sleeping peacefully, even Fred. So he plopped himself back on the sofa, where it was still a bit warm from where he'd been sleeping earlier.

_This isn't going to be easy--to stay awake, _Ron thought. _Sitting here in the dark, watching the firelight, knowing that everyone else is sleeping. And it's too bloody quiet..._Ron began to think about their attempted departure in the morning with the Portkey. It certainly didn't sound very safe - and he wasn't at all pleased about Hermione taking the first group. _What does she know about Portkeys? As bloody brilliant as she is, George and Fred are the ones with the most experience, even though Fred is in no condition to help anyone right now. George should take the first group._  
_  
_After spending a while lost in his thoughts, Ron felt something fall into his hair. He reached up and pulled a piece of hay from it, looking curiously at the dried plant, then back at the loft, which would be the only logical place it could have come from. But the loft was too far away from where he sat for it to fall from there. Curious--but then, what wasn't in this place?

Shrugging his shoulders at no one, he flicked the hay straw onto the ground and started watching the fire once more.

Several minutes passed before he felt something else descend upon his hair, heavier this time. But sure enough, it was more hay. He picked the loose clump from his hair and threw it to the floor. Squinting up at the loft, Ron wondered if Hermione would do such a thing just to irritate him. _But she must be asleep by now--she acted so tired when she left_ . He decided to ignore it, but watched from the corner of his eye--very carefully.

Another wad of hay flew from the loft. This clump, the size of a small Bludger, must have been charmed because it floated over him in one piece. Before he could move out from under the ball, it dropped straight down, bursting upon impact with his head to scatter bits of hay all over him.

Ron quickly stood and shook himself off, then strode determinedly to the bottom of the loft ladder. Peering upward, he could see no indication that anyone was up there, unless hay-throwing pixies had invaded when he wasn't looking. He climbed just high enough so that his head and shoulders were above the level of the loft platform; Ron peered into the darkness, but he could see nothing.

"Hermione--what's your problem?" Ron whispered, a bit irritated.

There was no response from the darkness.

"Hermione, stop it. I know you threw it--and charmed it. I saw the last one fly out of here," Ron said insistently.

Still no response came from the darkness. _Oh my god-what if it wasn't Hermione?  
_Suddenly Ron became worried. She'd just come up here just a short time ago, after all, and she wasn't answering him, maybe something else was up here with her and she was...

"Hermione? Are you all right?--Answer me, damn it!" he whispered angrily, yet getting more worried by the moment.

Ron was preparing to climb further up the ladder when her face appeared. She had crawled on hands and knees from the blackness into the light within several feet of him. But to come down to his level, she lowered herself onto her stomach directly in front of him and propped herself on her elbows just inches from his face.

She'd come so close so fast that he almost took a step back on reflex, but he caught himself in time, teetering and barely regaining his sense of balance on the ladder. He had to keep reminding himself that he'd better hold on tight and stay just where he was. _How does she make me __**do**__ things like that?_

"First you get me all hacked off, and then--you scare me to death!" Ron complained in a loud whisper. "Very funny, Hermione! Middle of the night, we could have woke everybody up...gah--my heart's going to pound its way out of my chest..."

"Sshhh! You'll wake them up," she whispered softly, pushing herself even closer to him.

Ron noticed that his heart was still making a valiant attempt to pound its way out of his chest, but for an altogether different reason now. "Yeah, well it's your fault if they--"_ She's leaning closer..._ "--if they..." _Is she doing what I think-- please, oh please... _

Ron suddenly became so fascinated with her persistent gaze into his eyes that the words fell right out of his mouth. The only thing his mouth wanted to do now was anticipate the warm, sweet softness he'd been craving...he was aching for it, his senses could almost reach out and touch her, but was she...?

Then...he felt Hermione press her mouth against his ever so gently, so slowly--he closed his eyes and felt the tingling race the length of his body for what must have been one hundred circuits in a row. As badly as he wanted to reach out to hold her, he couldn't let go of the ladder and risk falling. She tenderly moved her mouth over his, stopping momentarily to change position a bit, her breath tickling at his damp lips for the few seconds they were apart. He looked into her eyes at that moment_--Hermione, this time you know __**exactly**_ _what you're doing to __**me**__ ...just _._..do it some more..._This was torture--sheer, exquisite torture, and he would be her captive as long as she would have him--or until he fell off the ladder, whichever came first.

"Come on," she breathed as the shivers made one final route through his body. She finally pulled herself away from the edge to make room for him to climb onto the loft platform.

Ron realized he had no idea what had changed her mind about him, but he didn't give a Hippogriff's arse about reasoning right now. It simply didn't matter, and she wouldn't need to ask him twice.

He climbed the last few rungs and scrambled to his knees on the platform. But in the process, he kicked his foot straight and connected with the ladder. Turning as he felt it, he saw the ladder start to lean and fall from the front edge of the loft. He swung around rapidly and dove onto his stomach to grab at it, barely catching it with his fingertips before it toppled and fell crashing to the floor below.

The two of them froze in place, listening and holding their breath to see if all of the noise that Ron had made in saving the ladder had awakened anyone. But all they heard was twin snores and the even breathing of sleep.

Ron let out a long sigh of relief as Hermione giggled at him quietly behind her hand. He held the ladder in place until he could inch up on his knees and make sure it was balanced. He released it and turned around, kneeling, to face her. Had the loft been tall enough to give clearance for his head he would have stood straight, but he'd already tried that several times and none of his attemtps had ended well...

From the darkness, he saw her beckon him, waving him towards the back of the loft. Ron crawled through the straw on hands and knees behind her, back to the corner where she'd stacked the extra blankets. The dim light from the fire below showed that she had already created her makeshift bed of blankets and straw and the rumpled blanket on the bottom was evidence that she'd been laying down earlier.

But she didn't go as far as the bed. Stopping several feet before the stack of old blankets, she turned to face him, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Ron, still crawling, kept moving closer. He leaned in to continue what he_ thought_ she had started while he was on the ladder. His lips met hers in what he intended to be a longer kiss, but she quickly ended it and pulled away from him.

"You know, I think we need to talk," Hermione said hesitantly.

Ron groaned to himself and dropped his head into the blankets next to him. _We finally have things all straightened out, and now she wants to -- talk? Ergh. _He rolled over and sat up, leaning back against the stack and hanging his arms over his bent knees as he pushed his legs out in front of him. _What good is talking going to do, Hermione? You're not angry any more, you showed me you're not. I'm not angry, I showed you I wasn't--I would have shown you more if you woulda let me...Okay, Weasley, but you're playing by her rules now. If this is what it takes to make her happy, this is what you'll do. _He made a lame attempt to put on an open and eager expression to prepare for 'the talk'.  
_  
_"I had you come up here so that we wouldn't wake anyone up. But I couldn't sleep or try the Portkey tomorrow without telling you something, just in case..." She frowned for a brief moment, then he could tell she was pushing a thought from her mind to continue. "Ron, I--I should have known," Hermione started. She looked across at him and smiled shyly.

"What?" Ron asked, confused.

"I should have realized you were just trying to help Valeria. Well, I did _know_ that, really. But it didn't_ feel_ like that's all it was. You were so--nice to her--and you took care of her, and you always talked with her about how to help herself."

"But I did that because I was the only one who could really help her, not because of--anything else," Ron replied.

"I know that--now. She...she told me."

"She_ told_ you?" _Aha- so that's what Valeria and Hermione were talking about when I came in earlier with the water buckets. But, what exactly had Valeria told her?_"She said you talked to her about it yesterday--when you were coming down from the hill after she took Harry. She said that for some reason you started babbling on like you were nervous about how you had some friends who were girls. Then she asked if you had a girlfriend."

Ron quietly cleared his throat--he was worried and embarrassed, feeling that Hermione could even see him blushing in the near-dark. His legs were bouncing nervously. "Yeah?"

"She told me you said "erm" or "Herm", but she couldn't tell which, so she asked you again, and then-- you wouldn't say anything."

Hermione was getting the same response from Ron that Valeria did at that point. _Curse my tongue! I __**swear **__I am never, ever speaking a single word again. Newsflash: taking an oath of silence, Ron Weasley finds that he never gets himself into trouble with his mouth again..._

"She told me that she kissed you," Hermione went on matter-of-factly.

Ron's mouth dropped open, his face and ears went deep crimson, and he looked as if he might pass out there on the spot._ Uh-oh--you'd better say something about that or you're dead! So much for swearing yourself to silence._ Purposely and noticeably taking several deep breaths before being able to speak, he finally stuttered, "Er, er, er...yeah, but--but on the cheek--it was _nothing._ I didn't know she was going to do it, Hermione. Don't think it meant--"

"It's okay--she told me the rest, too."

Ron winced miserably._ What did she say? God, the power girls have over this subject is completely terrifying!_ "What-- 'rest'?"

"That she-- sort of wished you would have reacted differently," Hermione said with some difficulty. "She was wishing that you would have kissed her back--only, you know--really_ kissed _her."

Once Ron got his lower jaw to cooperate and come to meet his upper jaw, it all tumbled out quickly. "But I didn't want to--it wouldn't have made sense. It didn't _feel_ like anything--not like with--" Ron stopped abruptly, realizing how much he had actually blurted out in his rush to overcompensate for being 'caught'.

She smiled shyly. "She told me that, too." But Hermione was blushing furiously by now as well.

Ron groaned and slapped a hand over his eyes. _God, throw me to the dementors--now!!! _

"No, it was-- a good thing," Hermione said, responding to his gesture. "Well, I thought so. She said she reckons she'll have to find someone like you--well, maybe a little older--because you already feel too strongly about-- well, someone. She can tell. Valeria said that now she can see it in everything you do. Then she told me how really lucky I am." She looked down at her hands in her lap, unable to go on.

_It isn't like I've done that much kissing at all--figures that any I've been involved with would be with two girls who feel the need to analyze it together afterwards. Why couldn't I be one of those blokes who get away with kissing twenty different girls who never speak to each other for the rest of time?__**that-**__-you git!!_

Because, Weasley, you idiot, even if you made it through all twenty of the other girls, kissing them would never be as right as it is with Hermione every --single --time. Tell her

Ron took a deep breath. _They put you in Gryffindor, Weasley--pretend you feel brave. _"You know--she's right--I mean, about--you."

Hermione took a deep shuddering breath, just to let it out again. "I shouldn't have been so hard on you."

"You didn't know. I kept trying to tell you, but--I'm not very good at this stuff," Ron admitted.

"It's okay. I--"

_I think I can do this without being connected. I know I can...Come on, Weasley-- bring out that smooth-talking devil you are inside...you can do it..._ "I wanted to tell you this before. I even practiced it in my head. Okay, here goes." Ron took a deep breath and began. "Valeria needs me to get her through this--to get her to the good side--to get her life back for her. But I can't do it--"

"What?" Hermione interrupted in shock. "No. it's okay now--I understand--I don't mind. You _need_ to do this for her--"

"Let me get this out, Hermione!" Ron blurted in exasperation. He took another deep breath, feeling it catch in his throat, and he couldn't look at her as he spoke. "I _am _going to help her. But what I was going to say is-- just like she needs my help to get her through this--I--need you. _I _won't make it to help anyone else unless-- well, _you're_ the one that _I _need." Ron let out a great sigh when he finished, happy and proud to have finally told her, but still worried at what she thought of it.

All he had to do was look at her.

At his words, her eyes had begun to glisten especially brightly in the darkness.

"Ron, ..." Hermione started. The words died on her lips when their eyes met and locked.

The reflected firelight made a warm but dim glow around her. He wanted to say it better, to tell her more, to make her understand.

But those eyes...God, it seemed so long since she'd looked at him like that. And she was smiling--it was _his_ smile--bloody _hell,_ where had it been? He knew it had only been days, but it hurt like it had gone missing for years. Trying to find the words in his head to fix everything that seemed broken between them, he struggled with himself pointlessly. They watched one another, breathing hard--any words that Ron ever knew were gone.

Then he saw it-- she made the tiniest movement -- barely perceptible, but to Ron it could have moved the earth. She was reaching for him. She wanted him_._It was all he needed.

Ron reached out before him, grabbing her hand and pulling at her gently, yet insistently, tugging at her arm until she reached around his shoulders. Circling her waist with his other arm, he easily lifted her toward him. He reached his fingers carefully behind her head, tangling them through her hair and pulling her face towards his, holding her cheek gently yet firmly beside his own. Feeling Hermione's arms curl tightly around his neck, Ron leaned back, pulling her over on top of him. Somehow her weight on him made her feel more real to him, more alive--she filled his arms with warmth and substance and he felt like her pressure on his pounding heart made it work harder to give her more. Just to lie there like that forever might have been enough...

...Until she lifted her head to look down into his eyes. He could feel her chest moving against his with her deep, fast breathing. Her hair hung down around his face, tickling softly against his cheek and his chin. Her eyes reached deep into his to tell him what she wanted him to know. And at that point --nothing, _nothing_ could stop the inevitable.

As lightly as a feather falling, Hermione let her lips touch Ron's, brushing slightly from side to side as she continued to stare into his eyes. Except for her kiss on the ladder, he had never felt anything quite so excruciatingly wonderful and he only managed to enjoy it quietly for a minute before he groaned in sheer impatience. He had wanted to hold her and show her how much he cared about her first, but now he needed to show her how much she was wanted.

Rolling Hermione onto the blankets at his side, Ron's urgent kiss took over this time; he surrounded her with himself as she clung to him. He knew he was crushing her to him, but she didn't seem to care. Ron couldn't hold her close enough or find ways to kiss her deep enough, but he refused to give up trying.

Looking into her eyes, he could tell that Hermione welcomed his attempts at both, her fingers wrapped through his hair as her other arm held tightly around him. Ron couldn't remember ever feeling hunger through his skin before, but he knew that was what he was feeling now. Wishing he could find some way, magically or otherwise, to absorb her into himself, he moved his hands through her hair, and along her arms and back recklessly.

Momentarily cursing himself for having the self-discipline to leave anything between them, he wanted nothing between him and her, nothing to divide them, nothing to separate them ever again. He kissed her deeply until he felt dizzy and faint; he stopped only when his body told him he'd black out if he didn't, and he'd be damned if he was going to miss one more second of her in his life.

Pulling away and breathing hard, he could still feel her warm breath on his lips. To stop then wasn't his intention, but he wanted permission to go on. It felt as if his very life depended on it.

"Can I?" he asked in a husky, almost demanding voice.

Hermione knew just what the question meant and answered by pulling his face down to hers. Not realizing what kind of fire her actions would cause in him, he could feel her smile against his mouth when he made a deep, almost desperate noise in his chest.

Though she had certainly given him permission, Ron wanted desperately not to frighten her like before. He could feel the immediate intensity of the telempathic connection, and even though he was the one controlling it, the emotions he was feeling were so strong he was fearful it would push one or both of them from consciousness. Just when he thought his body could not stand one more burning sensation-- the wondrous feeling of closeness, of bonding, of not knowing where she ended and he began, all poured in around them. All of a sudden, he didn't feel like the enemy any more: she knew him, felt him, wanted him with her. The connection told him that just as he couldn't satisfy the want of her, that she felt the same insatiable hunger for him. Still it wasn't just the heat between them now, but the breathtaking depth of the bond, the warmth that continued beyond, even when they weren't together...

Ron could feel himself kissing her, her kissing him, the connection making them one and the same in mind, spirit, and soul. Only one other intimate way could make it more perfect, but this was more than enough to manage for now. It wasn't yet time to make it complete...and they both, together, discovered that they knew this.

*You know what this means?* Ron thought to her.

* We can't lie to each other when we're connected. So this _is _what's real between us--this _is_ what's honest. You know, it's been so long that we've been trying to let each other know, and I wasn't sure if it was ever going--*

*I meant it when I said I never want to hurt you.*

*I know--I know that now.*

*It would be stupid, anyway. It can't be like this with anyone else--it just can't.*

*I know. We're supposed to be like this. From that day after the troll, and you smiled at me, and then even in second year there were times that I thought you wanted to let me know, but you never said anything I could be sure of, and I was so hoping that I was right, that you liked me, and then third year we--*

*Hermione?*

*Hmmm?*

*Shut up.* Ron pulled her to him again and she sighed, almost limp in his arms by now, but they were both deliriously happy, exhilarated, and so relieved they could finally share their feelings. As amazingly magnificent and wondrous as this feeling was, it was also just the two of them. And Ron knew then that was it was all they would ever need.

Still craving the feeling of her next to him, Ron refused to leave any space between them. Once more, he slid his hand lovingly down her back, but on its way up his long fingers tangled in the hem of her shirt, his palm firmly landing on bare skin at the small of her back. Both of them flinched at the sudden contact--Ron swiftly yanked his hand away and Hermione gasped.

*Ron, we'd better--* Hermione thought to him, breathing hard and looking earnestly into his face.

*Yeah--*

*Not because --maybe someday--*

*Erm--I know--* Ron said, still breathing hard and momentarily having to look away from her in embarrassment. _Wait a minute--did you hear what she said? 'Someday'...Why are you embarrassed?_ _She feels that way, too._

*Maybe you'd better move over there for now--or--I won't be responsible for what happens--* Ron's thought sounded serious and he indicated a space next to the wall that would keep her out of his arm's reach.

*Oh, all right,* Hermione thought resignedly. But she wouldn't move her arm out from under where it was pinned to the floor by his ribs.

The two of them were quiet for a minute, enjoying their closeness. Even their thoughts to each other had quieted.

*If we're this good together like this, just think--* Ron's mind brought up out of the blue. He hadn't meant to think it to her, but it just burst out. He blushed bright red and looked away when he did, but now that he had and it was out the open between them, their closeness and their feelings took over.

Slowly he found the courage to look at her again; the two of them stared into one another's eyes for a moment, imagining...

Suddenly, Hermione's eyes went wide, and as her gaze connected more deeply with his, Ron felt their heat start to rise in full force again.

*I'm moving! I'm moving!* Hermione thought. She struggled to pull her arm out from under his side and move away before anything else happened. It was then that they heard it.

"Ron!" came the urgent whisper. "Ron!! Where are you?"

Ron looked at Hermione, his eyes wide open in surprise and panic.

*It's Harry! His turn on watch? Already??* Ron thought to her. _What's Harry going to think if he finds me up here?_ *Has it been that long?*

*Didn't seem like it,* Hermione whispered, shrugging.

Ron flung himself to his knees and scrambled toward the edge of the loft. Swinging his feet over the top rungs of the ladder, he hurriedly stepped down each one until--

_Thunk!!_ Ron slipped on the third rung from the bottom and fell to the floor, landing loudly on his feet, but squarely in front of Harry.

Even though Harry hadn't been able to find him, he also hadn't been expecting Ron to appear from the loft and seemed mildly surprised by the way he 'dropped in'. But Ron could tell that Harry was somewhat more than mildly surprised by his appearance. Glancing down, Ron realized that his shirt was seriously rumpled, pulled crooked and tangled on his body. Ron reached up quickly to find, as he suspected, that his hair was embarrassingly full of hay and generally sticking up all over. He reached his other hand up to his earlobe, becoming somewhat relieved when he realized that any gently indented teeth marks that might have been there moments before had since disappeared.

Harry looked at his best friend with raised eyebrows, then his eyes swung to the loft.

"Er...we were-- talking something over," Ron whispered sheepishly.

Harry looked Ron over again. "Yeah, I-- see that."

There was a dreadfully long and painful silence where Ron was desperately afraid that Harry was going to say something, but he wasn't sure just what.

"Well, it's my turn to be on watch," Harry said quietly. "So you can go get some sleep."

A very familiar voice came to Ron's mind, startling him and making him jump. *It's pretty cold up here, but it might be warmer if you--well, if you're _sure_ you only want to_ sleep_...*

_Did she mean...? Would she really...let me sleep there--next to her? _Ron shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. _I must have heard it wrong--the power of wishful thinking, eh, Weasley? _Ron sighed, realizing he was likely relegated to the sofa, but he looked longingly toward the loft, still hopeful.

Harry couldn't help but notice. "Not done with your, er-- talk, eh?" He paused. "Go ahead-- I won't say anything. Just-- don't make me think about it too much. And , hey--there are three conditions to my silence here."

Ron looked at Harry uneasily. He knew his best friend hadn't approved of his treatment of Hermione lately, even if Harry didn't know fully what was going on. "Yeah?"

"First, since I have to stay awake--I don't want to hear a sound," Harry started. "Second, don't even _think_ about giving meany details tomorrow--"

Ron first accepted what he thought Harry was telling him at face value. Then something more occurred to him. _Surely he doesn't think we're going to--_

His eyes going wide at the chance that Harry might have thought that very thing, Ron pulled himself together enough to stammer, "Harry--not that. I won't--she won't---we won't..."

Ron's nervousness caused him to flinch again when the voice in his mind returned. *Tell Harry he's got a dirty mind.*

"Good," was Harry's somewhat relieved response to Ron. Harry furrowed his brow at Ron's jumpiness. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"Erm...the hay--it itches," Ron said, scratching his head and trying to look convincing. He was ever so glad Harry didn't pursue the matter, though.

"And third--" Harry paused.

Ron was _really_ afraid of what could be coming now. He winced inside. "What?"

"You take good care of that heart that's waiting for you up there." It wasn't a request, it was an order, and Ron understood precisely why Harry would tell him so forcefully. The three of them all had a silent agreement to take care of one another, and that even included protecting them from each other, if necessary.

Ron gave Harry a warm, sincere, and understanding smile. "Yeah. I will." Ron turned slowly and quietly stepped to the bottom of the ladder. He looked back at Harry one more time, then began to climb.

Ron peered again into the darkness once he'd made his way onto the platform of the loft. He couldn't see or hear Hermione anywhere, and hadn't heard any mind-talking from her. _She couldn't be--asleep--could she? I hope she's not, I hope she's not... _He assumed she must be toward the back of the loft, where the light of the fire below couldn't find its way.

But as soon as he saw her, his hopes fell. He rolled over from hands and knees to sit down next to the pile of blankets again. Tonight had been quite a night already, but he'd been hoping it would go on forever.

Once there was enough light for his eyes to adjust and focus, Ron could see that Hermione looked totally lost to sleep. Completely reclined on the makeshift straw bed now, she was covered in several of the blankets they had knocked down together earlier. Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing evenly. He watched her, noting that she looked at once so young and yet so...

Hermione was so different now. It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to realize that she was a girl instead of just his 'other best friend'. Shifting his eyes to her again, he noticed that her curly hair gently curved around her chin to frame her face. Suddenly he was awed by the fact that someone who was as brave and pretty and brilliant as this girl-woman before him had been kissing him, and wanting him to kiss her, just a short time ago.

Perhaps it was better this way. Everything so far tonight had been reaction--pure, sweet simple impulse--emotion feeding into their minds and their bodies. But now--there was thought--how could he have been so bold to think that she would still...? Maybe _she_ had taken a moment to think, and then went to sleep to spare his feelings...

_What do I do now?_ It was too soon to go back down the ladder and face Harry. Certainly his and Hermione's 'talk' shouldn't be over this soon after all that he went through to get back up here. He would wait a few minutes, then go down and tell Harry they were through talking on his way to the lonely sofa...  
_  
"What_ are you _doing?"_ he heard her whisper, startled from his thoughts.

Realizing that her eyes had fluttered open, he was suddenly uncertain what to do with himself. "I--I thought you fell asleep."

"No. I was just trying to get warm--and I was-- waiting."

Ron couldn't remember ever being in the room with her when she was in bed. Well, except for the hospital wing--and that didn't count. Neither did sitting up asleep in a freezing cave. But there she was-- looking pretty and inviting and so much 'his Hermione' in something that seemed like an actual_ bed_ bed. He felt his ears and more going hot--thank the heavens for the darkness.

For some reason, he suddenly felt like he was eight years old again, about to be caught somewhere that he wasn't allowed to be. "Maybe I should just go," he said. His mind thought it was what he _should_ be saying, but his heart was resisting him all the way.

"Oh," she said, sounding very disappointed. He was surprised, yet pleased to see that she also looked quite sad.

Now he was even more confused. "I reckon you didn't expect me to _really_ come back up here, so I'll--"

"I was actually--hoping you might. To _sleep_, of course." She was looking into his eyes-- he could tell, he could feel it-- even from partway across the loft. *I mean, I was actually--hoping you might.*

A slow grin moved across his face. He knew exactly why she'd repeated it in the connection within their minds--she couldn't lie about her feelings from there. She _had_ wanted him to come back up here with her.

Without breaking her gaze into his eyes, she wriggled back closer to the wall to make space on the blanket for him.

As badly as parts of Ron wanted to jump at the chance to get into the makeshift bed with her, just as many parts of him were frozen in place, not even daring to consider it. He looked at her warily. *Is that--okay?* Ron asked weakly.

*Unless you were lying to Harry about what we were going to do up here,* she answered. *I mean, we're completely dressed, we're going to _stay_ that way, and we're just going to sleep--right? Unless this feels wrong to you. It hasn't felt wrong to me so far.* She looked at his still-stunned expression and guessed at what he was thinking, since he'd been thinking to himself and she couldn't hear it. *They're just blankets on straw, you know.*

Getting under the covers in a bed with Hermione felt even more indecent than some of the ideas his mind thrust at him when they were--well-- together earlier. He already _knew _those were indecent, but he was rather used to those thoughts pushing into his mind by now. As long as he didn't act on them...but _this_ was_ real!_ _He _couldn't even understand what was making him so shy all of a sudden, unless it was the totally intimidating thought that all of that beauty and brilliance wanted _him--Ron Weasley--_ next to her. On the other hand, she was right--he couldn't really see that they were going to do anything _wrong. Yeah--they're just blankets--on straw. And I'm just going to lay down there. Who could blame me if I fell asleep? What could be wrong with that?_Hermione had been waiting patiently for an answer. *Well, what do you think? Does it feel wrong?*

*Er,--well,-- no, not really, but...* he stammered, even in his mind.  
_  
_*So, then--why not? Can't I trust you?* Hermione said meaningfully.

His cocky grin appeared at the double entendre--he knew she was talking about trusting him with more than her innocence. *I don't know--do _you_ think can you trust me?*

In complete and utter seriousness, her eyes bore straight into his. *Yes. Absolutely.*

Ron knew he was going to have to ignore the bolts of electricity firing through his body if he went through with this. He could ignore them--he'd have to. He couldn't, he _wouldn't_ leave her tonight. But he wouldn't betray that hard-earned trust either.

"Well?" she asked.

"Since you put it that way..." Ron said.

Ron pushed off his shoes and moved to the bed, crawling under the blankets beside her. His body responded immediately to the warmth emanating from the spot where she'd been laying as he scooted himself down farther underneath. Yet it still felt so strange to be there that he laid flat on his back staring at the ceiling, his arms stiff at his sides. He realized how tense he was as his wounded shoulder began to ache from the muscles being held so taut--_luckily, it's on the side away from her,_ he thought.

But after a moment, he felt her warmth move closer to him. Her fingers found his and curled around them as she nuzzled her head into his other shoulder. It suddenly reminded Ron of a time long ago, huddled in a Charmless Carrel, just after he'd made two great strides in his life in one fell swoop. He remembered the moment he had unknowingly sent his first telempathic message--and that in the message he'd sent, he managed to tell his best friend Hermione Granger that he liked her.

*I'm glad you came back,* she thought to him.

*No doubt because of my great heat-making abilities, right?* Ron tried to think back to her smoothly, but it came out sounding jittery instead.

Hermione acted like she didn't want to think about that one too hard. *Erm--well, that, too. And I did want to tell you I was wrong about Valeria. But besides that, I really wanted someone here because...I don't know--it wouldn't feel good to be alone tonight.*

Ron quickly turned his head to look at her with concern. She was facing him as she laid on her side and the light was just enough for him to see the slightly worried expression on her face. *The dementors? Is that what's bothering you? Or--?*

*It's kind of--everything,* she sighed in her mind. *You know--the dementors, Voldemort coming after Harry, the Portkey not working, our having to use it when I'm not sure...*

Ron turned more to face her. *You're not sure? Well, then we won't use it. We can walk out.*

*But Fred-- I don't think he'll be able to, and I'm worried that we need to get him some help sooner than it'll be if we walk--* Hermione fretted.

*Hey--don't think that way. We'll be fine--we'll all be fine.* Ron was trying desperately to sound positive. He could feel her fears so strongly that they were starting to bother him, too.

*I guess I just needed somebody to tell me that,* Hermione thought to him meekly. *Trying to be strong all the time can make you so tired...*

Ron found himself remembering a lot about that night in the Charmless Carrel all of a sudden. He had wanted to hold her and make her feel protected on that night, too. But the difference was: on this night, he was going to do it.

Adjusting to fit his wide shoulders as he rolled on his side, Ron folded his arms around Hermione and pulled her close to him. It always amazed him how she fit so perfectly against him, her head tucked next to his cheek, his body conforming to hers. But now it was different than before--there was no fire within him asking him how long he had to wait to do those_ things_ with her. That urgency was gone for the time being.

This time there was just a warm sort of glow that surrounded them; this time they only needed the comfort of having each other and holding the world at bay. Ron remembered third year when Hermione threw herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. He couldn't understand why she needed him to hold her then--but he understood now. If only he could always protect her completely just by having the sheer will to do so...

After a few minutes, Ron brought up his earlier thoughts. *You know, I don't want you to go with the first Portkey, either. George and Fred are the experts--they should go and take Harry with them. You can stay here, then you and I can go together with Valeria--we'll be right behind them if they get through, remember?*

As worried as she seemed, Hermione insisted. * Ron, I did the Binding Spells and most of the Time Extension Spells. I've got to be the one to go.*

Now it was Ron's turn to sound worried. *But if anything happened to you...*

*It will be my own fault. That's my point.* Hermione paused for a long moment, thinking. *But--why did you say that?*

Ron was lost. *Why what?*

*_Why_ don't you want me to go first then? Why does it matter to you?*

_What is she getting at?_ *Because...*_ Uh-oh - ambushed._ *You already know why.*

*What if I didn't?* she asked, being the slightest bit coy.

*But you _do._ Before, I let you feel how I feel when we were fighting the dementors, and the first time in the connection and just-- tonight.*_ What __**is **__it with girls and having to __**talk**__ about feelings? Isn't __**feeling**__ them good enough?  
_  
Hermione nodded slightly. *True--you did. But did you ever_ tell_ me, exactly?*

Ron leaned back from her a bit to try and look down into her face. _Don't you already know how badly I do this? Don't make me, please..._*Hermione--* he whined, feeling his whole head in a vibrant blush. He tried again. *But you can feel it, can't you? You can feel how I feel about you.*

Hermione nodded a little. *Yes, I can feel it. It's perfectly wonderful. And you can feel how I feel about you, can't you?*

*Yeah. I think.*

Hermione swallowed. She acted as if she was going to tell him something she never had before, and it was making them both nervous. *I think you already know that I...I think I lo--*

*Yeah--yeah, I know,* Ron broke in. The intensity of the moment was really becoming too much for him. He didn't think he would be able to stay here with her tonight if he actually heard what he thought was coming. He knew his excitement would overwhelm him and send him back to that lustful place he was trying so hard to ignore. It was amazing that she felt that way, but he just didn't have the means to handle it-- yet.

*But you've never ever_ told_ me how you feel. And girls-- need to hear it sometimes.*

*Girls? What girls? Forget the rest of the girls in the world. I'll never have to worry about that--because there'll always be just you. And you already know...* He continued to look down in her face, his eyebrows raised in the hope that what he'd said would be enough. Her eyes gazed up at him soulfully, sweetly, openly--she'd bared her soul to him and was waiting for him to take his turn. _Bloody hell,_ he thought miserably, _she wants more._Ron sighed. *All right--I'll try. Don't ever repeat back to me what I'm about to tell you, because I don't want to hear later how badly I've buggered this up.* He paused. *When you're not there, everything seems dark, and it's like there's no hope and it's so ...lonely. I used to be okay by myself before, but now if you're gone it's so_ bloody lonely_. And --it's not just how you look, it's how you are--inside. I'm not even starting on how smart you are, and I--like you so much--well, it's more than that, it's--I'd die for you, Hermione, you know that, right?*

She seemed to have a bit of difficulty listening to him try and put his sentences together. The meaning of it all seemed fine with her, but was he saying...? *Yes. I think I do. So you-- like me, then? That's what it is?*

_Thank the gods I'm still in the connection, or we wouldn't have made it this far. _*I said it's more than that.*

* More?*  
_  
Go on--try it. You know you feel it, you just have to say it--not even that--you only have to __**think**__ it to her! _*I think I --* _Gah--don't stop now!  
_  
Ron knew that Hermione could tell he was mentally squirming.

*Yes?* Hermione prompted.

Ron paused in his thoughts, trying to understand himself what was stopping him. For some horrid reason, he thought of Malfoy. *But I don't want to say that lightly, because I know prats like Malfoy do it all the time to get what they want, and that's not fair, because the girls never know just what it means, and...*

Hermione didn't act as if that thought had anything to do with the Ron she knew. *I know you wouldn't do that.*

Ron was still struggling with himself, trying to pinpoint the reason. *But I wouldn't want to tell you if it wasn't so, and I don't know for sure because I never have been, but I think that's what it is and...*

Hermione couldn't stop herself from prompting him again. *You've never been-- what?*

Even in his mind, Ron was becoming so flustered that he wasn't thinking before he 'spoke'--never a good sign for Ron. *Before--I've never been in--* He stopped. *--Hermione!* he whined again.

Ron could tell that she knew he couldn't get it out, even in the connection. He couldn't lie about it if he thought it to her, but not saying it avoided the issue altogether. She did seem to act, however, as if she was pretty darned sure that she felt it there.

Ron let out a deep sigh. He was finished trying to describe how he felt. In their connection, Ron could feel that she was aware of how befuddled and frustrated it always made him. *Can we talk about this some other time? It's been a really long day--and night--and I just want to remember how tonight feels and be--like this-- and go to sleep... *

Hermione sighed and smiled a little to herself at Ron's frustration. He wasn't going to tell her tonight, but that was okay. *All right-- me too.*

Ron felt her snuggle closer into his chest. He felt her arms around his sides, and for a few wonderful minutes, she even reached up and played with his hair, like she had that time in the common room. He noticed how warm he felt next to her, and how safe somehow, even considering all the danger they were in. Holding Hermione, taking in everything about her and nearly falling asleep with his mind still connected with hers--nothing in the world could feel more right.

It was quiet for a while. Both of them were nearly asleep. Hermione's arms had since gone limp and relaxed, but Ron continued to softly twirl the curly, fine hairs at the nape of her neck around his finger, sending her to sleep with the amazing feeling it was causing in her.

*Hermione?* Ron murmured in his mind.

*Hmmm?* She could barely answer; even her thoughts were heavy with sleep.

*You know I do...*

She smiled happily against his chest, taking in his scent, and his warmth, and the wondrous combination of strength and gentleness that was uniquely Ron--all around her.

*I know you do, Ron.*


	26. Hopes and Horrors

**~~ Chapter 26 ~~  
Hope and Horrors**

"There was food here a few days ago-lots of it-all along the bottom of the hillside here," Sirius said. "But the bad news is-there were lots of people, too."

"But the watchwizard said the Hogwarts kids were some of the last to go," Moody replied. "Shouldn't that make their scent stronger or something-leave it closer to the surface?"

Sirius looked uncertain. "Yeah, but..." He shook his head a little. "All right-one more round before we take a break." Sirius transformed into Snuffles and, starting at one end of the foot of the hill, started sniffing the ground carefully, walking back and forth across a thirty-foot-wide strip of grass and dirt. Moody moved along with him on the side, acting as a sort of meter of how far the dog should be in relation to the length of the area.

Snuffles was beginning to tire and seemed ready to give up when he'd covered about two thirds of the strip.

All at once, he came to a dead stop. Snapping to attention and pointing from his nose to his tail for a good thirty seconds, he then began to bounce around one point on the ground excitedly. Snuffles started barking loudly and insistently at Moody, some twenty feet away.

Moody, who had been rather lackadaisically strolling along, stopped cold as well. He watched his partner's enthusiastic expression, even as Snuffles, and approached him quickly. "Is that it, Black? Have you found Harry's scent?"

Snuffles continued to bark and wag his tail, staring the Auror directly in the face.

"Well, I didn't think dogs could smile," Moody said, sounding pleased. "But if they do, that's what it looks like. We'll see if you can follow it well enough to actually call it a lead before we notify Hogwarts. Damn, I'd love to be able to send Albus some good news for a change. Lead on then, Black."

Snuffles made one last emphatic bark at Moody. Then the huge, black dog put his nose to the ground again, not intending to lift it until it ran into the shoe of his godson.

# # #

Ron could feel his arm around her waist moving gently with the rhythm of her breathing. He pulled Hermione closer to him, reveling in her warmth and how right she felt and how very comfortable he was, sleeping next to her like this. _Blimey, how I love this dream..._ he thought..._every time I have it._

She turned until her forehead settled against his cheek, moving in her sleep to be closer to him, too. _And the best part is that she wants me here with her. At least I can have her when I'm dreaming... _Without waking, she sighed, and he answered by pressing his face closer.

Almost succumbing to a deep sleep again, Ron felt something tickle his cheek. He thought it must have been the large, soft pillow on his bed at Hogwarts-_that pillowslip must be all bunched up again. Ah, well-back to sleep-  
_  
He felt the fluttering sensation once more. _Ergh, there must be a moth in here. _Then he almost gasped aloud. _What if it's a-__**spider?**_Ron's eyes snapped open and he quickly wrenched his head up to search the blue and white ticking pillowcase beneath his head.

But what he saw brought him instantly awake. There was no blue and white ticking pillowcase, just a ratty old folded blanket over straw. There was no spider, and no dream, for that matter.

There was just - Hermione. Hermione, who had _really_ slept next to him the rest of night; Hermione, who had _really_ sighed contentedly as she tried to snuggle closer to him; Hermione, whose eyelashes had _really_tickled his cheek from her eyes moving in her sleep. Hermione, who looked so...so...peacefully beautiful there next to him.

A huge, silly grin spread across his face as he laid his head back down next to hers on the folded blanket, still staring at her in wonder. He knew his grin looked completely stupid because he'd never felt more like the richest man on Earth, and he was awake enough to know that _that_certainly wasn't true. But damn, if he didn't feel like it right at this moment.

Ron wasn't sure how long he watched her, trying to absorb and keep every single thing about being this close to her locked up to remember forever. He recalled all that they had talked about last night, and what had brought them back together, and why he was here. He knew it was real, but it seemed too close to the stuff of his dreams; he kept having to pinch his earlobe to make sure he was still awake.

The warm, fuzzy feeling of the connection that tied the two of them together was still with him-the connection was still intact. _Hmm, _he thought, _another first-didn't know we could do that either. _He started to wonder if perhaps they would share the same dreams if they were connected while sleeping, but thinking back to some of the dreams he'd had about Hermione began to worry him a little.

"Arghhh!" Ron cried out as something small and hard thumped him in the back of the head-painfully. _Well, I know I'm awake now,_he thought as he grabbed at the site of impact.

Hermione must have heard his exclamation enough to disturb her a bit, and she rolled onto her other side, taking his arm with her.

"Ron!" said a loud whisper. "Wake up! Weasley! _Now,_Ron!"

Ron struggled to leave his arm with Hermione going one direction while still rolling to the other enough to see who was talking to him. The fog outside didn't permit much light to enter the little loft, but what there was spilled across it through the small window he'd made for Hermione. He could finally make out Harry once his eyes had focused-Harry, who was poised to pitch another little rock at the backside of his head, he noticed.

Harry was standing on the loft ladder, barely high enough to look over the edge of the platform, just as Ron had been doing the night before. "Long 'talk', eh, Ron? George was wondering where you were. He thinks you're off in the forest-you know-using the loo. I don't know that he's actually looking for you right now, but he will be soon if you don't show up. And I don't think you want to show up from here."

Ron's eyes widened and the adrenaline began to pump as his predicament started to sink in. _If Mum ever found out... _

At the same time, Hermione started to stir, coming to the realization that she wasn't alone in the blankets.

*Ron? What are you-?* she started thinking in confusion, putting her head up a little and lifting his arm from around her. *Oh-_ that's_right.* Hermione rolled over to face him. "Good morning," she said aloud. She smiled contentedly into Ron's face and buried her head into the hollow between his cheek and his shoulder, pulling his other arm around her and closing her eyes again.

Ron pulled his head up, shrugging with his free shoulder and grinning sheepishly at Harry. Then he turned back and spoke to her quietly. "Hermione, I _have_to get up. If George comes back and I'm not down there, I'm dead."

"No! Wait! Don't get up!" Harry said suddenly.

Hermione gasped and sat up, automatically holding the blanket in front of her. "Who's that? Harry?"

Ron started to panic, unsure whether to get out from under the blankets or burrow farther beneath them. "What now? Is George back?"

"No, I don't think so," Harry replied, appearing nervous about something. "But just -I don't want to see you get out of bed. Let me go down first."

Ron was confused. "What-why? You've seen me get out of bed loads of times."

"But not after-" Harry stopped himself, looking quickly from Ron to Hermione and back, turning pink as he did so. He glanced down at the ladder, apparently to see if he had stable footing in his haste to depart.

Hermione, who had been sitting in shock and trying to wake up, gasped much more loudly this time. "Harry, you _get_that thought out of your mind right now or I'll hex you so fast-" she said in a very stern tone. "Where's my wand?" She started pushing her hands around in the blankets, feeling for it.

"Well, what did you expect?" Harry asked in self-defense, stopping his descent to answer her concern after stepping down a rung . "How was I supposed to know if you two were-erm...dressed-or not?"

This time Ron was indignant. "Look!" he said, pulling loose from Hermione, flinging back the blankets and scrambling to his knees.

Harry glanced reluctantly, then let out a small sigh of relief to see that Ron was fully dressed except for his shoes. He seemed to think it even better that Hermione was dressed, too.

"I told you there'd be none of that-" Ron started. But just then they all heard the sound of footsteps on the gravel near the well.

The panicked look returned to Ron's face. He quickly turned back to Hermione, leaned over, and softly touched her shoulder. "Not that I want to go-"

"Go!" she hissed, now fully awake herself. _"Go!"_

Ron all but flew over the loft platform to the edge, seeing that Harry was about halfway down the ladder. He quickly assessed where George was by the sound of the footsteps, then made a decision-he'd never get down the ladder in time. Clearing the hay from a space at the edge of the platform, Ron swung himself over the edge, hanging by his hands for a moment before dropping to the floor. He and Harry both arrived at ground level a split second before George walked through the door.

"Good morning!" Harry and Ron said in unison, a little too cheerfully.

" 'Morning," George said slowly, looking suspicious when both Harry and Ron were standing together and staring at him as he walked through the door. "You beat me back here, eh, Ron? That's funny. Didn't see you anywhere out there." He then looked at Ron's arms, which were still in mid-air from the drop.

Ron glanced up, then promptly faked a yawn and pretended to stretch. "Oh, yeah," he said through the yawn. "I saw you, but I reckoned you didn't want to be disturbed. So I just came on back."

George looked doubtful of his younger brother's explanation, but walked across the room to collect the buckets anyway. "Get your shoes on-we need to bring in some water for Fred and the girls, in case they're thirsty when they wake up." George started to pick up a bucket, but stopped. Turning back to Ron, he looked down. "Your shoes are off-already-and you just got back?"

Ron tried not to look surprised at George's observation. "Yeah-yeah," he said, mentally scrambling for an excuse. "Erm-got sand in them. Yeah-down by the riverbank. Lots of sand-had to shake them outside-Mum trained me well, she did." Ron was perfectly aware that it sounded like a load of dragon dung, and that he was no more likely to shake sand from his shoes outside than kiss Malfoy, but it was all he had on such short notice.

"Sand," George said flatly. "Yeah. Right. Just-find them."

This morning was too weird already. First of all, George didn't sound like he believed the sand excuse one bit, and -_how am I going to get my shoes? _"Yeah, okay." Ron began pretending to search near the sofa. "They've got to be here somewhere. I'll just keep looking. Hmmm, where could they have gone?" _Shut up,Weasley-you sound like a blithering fool!  
_  
The moment George turned away from him to pick up the buckets next to the stone table, Ron heard a 'Pop!" as something landed behind him. Turning around, Ron found one of his shoes sitting in the middle of the floor; he collected it and put it on as if he'd known it would be there all along.

He looked up to find George watching him oddly. Apparently, George had heard the noise, too, but luckily, he didn't seem to know where it came from. Of course, the fact that everyone seemed to have missed Ron's shoe sitting in the middle of the floor might have had him stumped, too.

"One down, one to go," Ron said, cringing as he turned away from George and rolling his eyes at his own words.

*That was an intelligent thing to say,* a familiar voice in Ron's head spoke up.

*That's_ it!_* Ron thought playfully to Hermione through the connection. *No more smart remarks from the gallery, please, especially from my partner in crime. I'm cutting you off.*

*Just as well,* Hermione thought back haughtily. *A girl's got to have _some_privacy, you know.*

George continued with his task, shoving two buckets at Ron before he walked through the door. Once he was gone, another shoe dropped from above. It hit Ron on his unhurt arm hard enough to elicit an "Ow!", which was immediately followed by a giggle from the loft.

Ron then turned to encounter an unexpected, but amused face before him at his level.

Valeria was smiling at him. She looked up towards the loft, then back at him, her smile even bigger now. "I told her she was lucky."

Ron could feel his face burning. He began to wish desperately that he was back at the granite rock pile, so that he could find a large, heavy boulder, and crawl silently beneath it.

An hour later, everyone was prepared to leave. They had rushed to find everything they needed since the fog was still rolling about in puffs outside, which gave credence to their plan of using the Portkey. But no matter how their departure would eventually come about, their rucksacks were packed and they would be leaving the little stone cottage that day.

Fred sat at the edge of his bunk, a bit more aware of the world than he had been the day before. But he still complained of a headache and sharp pains, and was unable to stand for very long without getting dizzy.

"Are you sure you're not wearing mine?" George was asking him, still looking for his long-lost sock.

"I may have had a sharp knock on the head, but I know these are _my_ socks that _my _feet have been in since we've been here," Fred replied. "Unless, of course, my feet were tampered with yesterday, when I was unable to defend myself." Fred began to look around the room. "You know, I vaguely remember Hermione being here then-maybe she just couldn't keep her hands off me. Unless...I remember Harry being here, too, but I don't think he'd-"

"As nutters as you are after that little mishap with the firewood-maybe you're wearing three and don't know it," George pressed on, ignoring Fred's response. "Let's have a look..."

Ron shook his head and walked away from his brothers, unable to believe that the twins could be shrewd enough to run their own business, but so mental about a sock. He walked over to the stone table, where Hermione was rearranging and re-packing some of the items inside her rucksack.

"Have you talked to George yet? About your going with the second group?" Ron asked.

Hermione looked up at him and bit her lip, just looking into his eyes for a long moment. Then she shook her head 'no'.

"Hermione-I thought we agreed."

"_You_ agreed-and I can't, Ron. I told you-I cast most of the spells that we're not sure about. Fred might be able to help me a bit if we get into trouble. And I've already talked to Harry-he knows it might be a little-rough. Then I can help George from the other side-we've been through this-" She looked into his eyes. "There are things_ you_ have to do, and things_ I _have to do-and this is one of mine."

Ron searched her eyes - he couldn't very well argue with that after all they'd been through with Valeria.

"So- we're ready?" George asked, holding his rucksack over one shoulder and helping to support Fred with the other arm. "We'll be outside. I have one piece of the Portkey-Hermione?"

"Right here." Hermione held up the other half of the orange polka-dotted fishing hat.

Valeria picked up the seaman's bag she had been given on board the _Brigance _and followed the twins out of the door.

Harry walked over to his two best friends. "Ready, Hermione?"

She nodded quietly. Ron could feel the tension she held within her even without the connection between them.

"It'll be fine," Harry said encouragingly. "If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't do it. Especially knowing about the Humpty Dumpty thing-I don't want to depend on anyone else to put me back together right."

Harry's attempt at a joke made Hermione smile a little.

Ron looked from one to the other with some irritation. "Who the bloody hell is this Humpty Dumpty?"

Harry raised one eyebrow at Ron's growing irritation. He apparently noted the sparkle in Hermione's eye as well. "Just this jolly good egg of a fellow-tied up all the king's horses and all the king's men for a long time-probably really peeved the king." Harry adjusted his rucksack on his shoulder and walked away from Ron's look of utter confusion.

Ron looked after him helplessly. _"What?"_

Hermione was smiling ruefully. "It's not important. Come on."

Looking more as if she was heading toward her expulsion hearing from Hogwarts, Hermione began to trudge across the room slowly and heavily, her rucksack at her side.

_She looks like she feels completely awful about this. Bugger, I hope it all goes right. I'm certain she's done everything the way it should be. After all, when did one of her spells ever backfire? Maybe we __**should **__just walk out of here. But maybe she's right about Fred...  
_  
Just as they approached the threshold, Ron grabbed Hermione by the hand and pulled her aside, where they couldn't be seen or heard by the others.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Ron asked, giving her one last chance to back out.

"It's not what I want-it's what I think Fred needs. And Harry- we can't let Voldemort have the chance to find him if we cross the valley," Hermione said.

_There's a lot of uncertainty to this, _Ron thought,_ but nothing we can do will improve our chances-we've covered all of our options. Since we're not sure, we might as well choose one and have faith in our choice. Okay, Weasley, no matter how else you feel now-you __**make**__Hermione believe in herself._

Ron looked directly into her eyes, dropping his rucksack to the floor. "All right, then. Listen to me-it'll work-you understand? You've used all of what you and George know to do this-and between the two of you, that's a _lot._ I know you're used to having books to back you up-but you've got to trust what _you_know now. I do-and we'll be right behind you as soon as the Portkey will activate again."

Hermione just looked up at him, her worried eyes searching his.

"You can do this," Ron said. "Ready?"

She nodded a little.

"Not that you'll need this for luck, but just in case..." He leaned over and kissed her quickly on the lips, intending to let her turn and go. But the spin of the earth must have jolted him her way somehow because the next thing he knew he was holding her close and looking into her face.

He couldn't resist pulling her tighter into an embrace and giving her a second kiss that definitely should have improved her luck, if intensity had anything to do with it. The kiss showed her so emphatically he believed in her that the two of them didn't even notice George crunching across the gravel to stand by the door.

George cleared his throat loudly and spoke. "Nicely done, little brother-you were right on target that time. But Ron- I have to tell you, mate-much longer and you'll need a Contraception Charm for that one."

Ron and Hermione had jumped apart at the sudden voice, then both of them blushed furiously.

"Now- wait a minute-" George mused. "Last night she'd barely let you touch her, and this morning you get -_that?_Did I miss something?"

"You know what _I'm_ not going to miss when we get back, George? _You-_-being _everywhere_-all of the bloody time!" Ron said in irritation, collecting his rucksack and following Hermione out of the door.

Hermione walked to the makeshift Portkey site, where Harry and Fred were already standing, and took a deep breath. "What time is it, Fred?"

Fred looked at the watch on his wrist, squinting and moving it around as he stared at the numbers. "I'm not sure- it's a little fuzzy."

Ron, standing directly behind Hermione, glanced worriedly at his brother.

Hermione glanced back at Ron, then at Harry. "Swelling in the optic nerve-we've got to get him back," she said quietly. "This has got to work."

Harry nodded, but Ron thought his friend seemed a bit preoccupied with something else. Harry's brow was furrowed and he had a strange expression on his face.

"You all right, Harry?" Ron asked, to which Harry nodded quickly.

Hermione leaned over to have a look at Fred's watch. "Eight fifty-five. The default timer would have us leave at nine o'clock tonight, we set it back twelve hours; it should transport with the most power five minutes from now. Ready, you two?"

"Yeah, let's go-everything's already spinning for me-I won't even notice the Portkey adding on," Fred said, shaking his head a little as if to clear it. He then unbuckled the watch from his wrist so that they could count down nearly to transport time, then hand the watch off to George before they left. It would have to be used to time the second Portkey departure as well.

Valeria stood leaning against the wall, her seaman's bag at her feet alongside Ron's and George's rucksacks. She fidgeted nervously as she watched the group preparing to leave. No one had the courage to verbalize the doubts in their minds.

George stood next to Valeria, doing some sort of short-term Neutralizing Spell on the second half of the Portkey so that the resistance would be minimal during the transport time. Without any support from books or knowledgeable adults, they had all tried to think of how to minimize anything that could go wrong and how to enhance everything that could go right. For once, all of the boys had begun to believe that perhaps Hermione's attachment to the library was not such a bad thing after all.

Ron took note of Harry flinching again and wondered if it was his nervousness about the Portkey that was making him act so strangely. Harry had a pained look about his eyes somehow...

"Here, give me the watch, Fred," Harry said. "I'll hand it to George-I'm closer."

Fred looked in Harry's direction, apparently having a bit of trouble focusing on larger things as well. He held up the watch, waving it around a bit before Harry could corral his hand and take it from him. As soon as he let go, Fred began to stare over Ron's right shoulder at the hillside. Squinting and moving his head about to try and focus, everyone present began to worry seriously about Fred's eyesight.

"Okay, only one minute to go," Harry said, his voice a bit strained.

"Everyone touch," Hermione said after looking over at George for confirmation.

Fred touched the Portkey Hermione was holding, but Harry was balking.

George handed his Portkey half to Valeria to hold so that it wouldn't react with the one in use, then began to walk toward the transporting group to get the watch from Harry.

Hermione noticed Ron was still behind her. She glanced back at him quickly and spoke quietly. "You'd better stand back, Ron. We may need a little extra room."

Ron gave her a warm, encouraging, and loving smile before he took several steps back. "See you in a few minutes at Hogwarts. Take them home, Hermione."

As Ron moved aside, Fred continued to struggle in focusing his gaze on the hillside. Suddenly, Fred's mouth gaped open and he started shaking his head furiously . "Holy mother of-no, it can't be. It can't-not so soon-not _now-"  
_  
Ron and George, thinking that something horrible was happening to Fred, focused on their brother.

"Wait, Hermione!" Ron said.

Hermione had started chanting something just seconds before to boost the power of the Portkey and shook her head urgently. "No, we can't- my hands are getting warm already. Hold on, Fred. We'll get him some help-don't worry! Harry! Touch! You have to touch! Now!"

"Not _me_, you gits!" Fred yelled. "Look-up there-through the fog! On the hillside!"

Everyone's attention except Harry's swung instantly back to where the fog was blowing about like storm clouds gathering for a gale. But between the dark puffs of gray, like a horrible recurring nightmare, a deathly black swarm of dementors could be seen moving slowly but certainly down the face of the far slope.

Hermione gasped through her chanting and began to breath unevenly.

Valeria's hands went to her face as she took in the sight- she pressed them against her cheeks in terror and slumped to the ground next to the wall. _"Noooo!"_she wailed.

Ron just stared with a look of pale resignation and muttered, "Here we go again."

Harry, his face still tensed, had held the watch out to George at the moment Fred yelled. But the instant George took hold of it in a dazed stupor as he stared at the hillside, Harry first pulled the watchband hard, yanking George off-balance behind it, then pushed him forcefully into his twin.

There were, indeed, now three people touching the Portkey- and they were beginning to fade.

"Harry! What are you _doing!"_Hermione shrieked between the lines of her chant. "You can't stay here!"

"Stop it, Hermione!" Fred said urgently. "Stop the Portkey! We can't leave them here!"

Hermione stared up at the hillside with tears starting to run down her cheeks. "I can't stop it!" she said between chants. "I don't know how without hurting us all."

Ron, staring in horrified awe at the black figures of doom floating down the hillside, had just heard the commotion behind him. He whipped around, trying to figure out what was happening. "What the-"

He saw a fading Hermione and Fred, and then Har-no, that was _George! _The very next thing Ron saw was a blur of Harry's shoulder coming at him and hitting him squarely in the chest, knocking him to the ground with Harry on top of him.

Trying to recapture the breath that had been knocked from him, Ron spluttered out, "Harry, what the hell are you _doing? _You've _got_ to go! They're coming _back! Get up! **Get up!"**_

"Shut it, Ron. I'm not going anywhere," Harry said quietly.

A high-pitched shriek distracted them.

"What's that noise, Hermione?" a halfway-faded George asked quickly from the Portkey group.

Hermione was swinging her head around and looking above her. She had stopped her chanting. "I don't know. What could it be, George? Oh my word-what_ is_that?"

Ron panicked at the tone of her voice. "Hermione! Stop it! Stop it any way you can! Just let go!_ Anything!"_

But she didn't act as if she could hear him. "I'm switching to _Fluccio Paradum! _That's got to-argh!" Fading Hermione clenched her free fist and held it over her ear, scrunching her head into her shoulders and squeezing her eyes shut tightly against the sound she could apparently hear so loudly from within the spell.

And then they were gone.

_"HERMIONE!" _Ron bellowed at empty air. "Fred! George," he called, more quietly at the end as he realized the futility of his words.

Harry stared stunned at the empty space as well. "Do you think-?"

Ron's face was an indefinable mix of fear, confusion, worry, and anger. He spoke quietly as if lost in thought. "I-I don't know..."

"Ahhhh!" Harry hissed, rubbing furiously at his scar. He rolled off of Ron's legs. "Sorry about the tackle-I knew you'd try and stop me otherwise."

"Now look what you've done, you prat!" Ron spat angrily at Harry in his panic, pushing himself off the ground. "The dementors are on their way, and you're still here! I can't keep eleven dementors off of you alone! What were you thinking, Harry? Neither of us knows how to regulate the Portkey so it'll work, because you've sent both of our 'tour guides' together. And look what you've done to yourself-you could be on your way to Hogwarts, safe-"

Ron heard his voice say the word. But the thought stuck in his throat. _Safe?_What if Hermione and his brothers weren't safe at all?

He consciously blocked the thought from his mind.

Deep breaths. Think about what you're doing now. Right now. You're here with Harry and Valeria, at least for the few minutes until the Portkey will activate. That's all. Hermione's okay-the twins are fine. Don't think beyond that or you'll never survive this to find out if they really are safe...

"So, are you done yelling at me yet?" Harry asked calmly.

"I don't know!" Ron blurted in one last outburst before the anger burned itself out and he said grudgingly, "Yeah."

"Good-because I think we may have one or two things to take care of before we can get the Portkey to activate again," Harry said, nodding toward the dementor group that had cut their distance from the cottage by half.

The two boys suddenly felt a sharp, cold gust of wind against their faces. The fog began to move around them strangely, whipping about as if being pulled from somewhere. The odd thing was, it all seemed to be moving in the same direction, instead of just moving randomly in patches as it was before. It was a very unnatural way for a natural occurrence to behave.

"The Orb, you think?" Harry asked.

Ron grimaced dejectedly. "Portkey's probably useless now. Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron said miserably. _"Why _did you do it?"

Harry took a deep breath and let it out fully. "Because I wasn't leaving you here alone with George and Valeria. You wouldn't have left me alone if you knew what I know, either." Harry looked his best friend dead in the eye. "He's coming, Ron. I know it. He'll be here any time now."

Ron paled and his freckles stood out more on his skin. "Not-_He-?"_

"Yeah-I'm afraid so."

Ron tried to comprehend their situation, then glanced back at the advancing black mass of beings. "But I don't see anything except the dementors-do you?"

"No," Harry answered, rubbing his forehead. "I don't know if he's with them. But he's really close-I can feel it in my scar."

"So, what do we do?" Ron asked. "It'll be a while before we can try the Portkey, assuming we can get it to do anything-and then it _might_get through that Orb Spell, if it's still not formed enough."

"Do we _have_to use the actual site, you think?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Ron answered. "But it's the only part of the transport that'll be normal, so I'd think so. We're already going on half a Portkey, we don't have a clue how to fix it if the spell starts to waver, and who knows if everyone else..." Ron trailed off. He could tell the sadness and despair of the dementors was starting to almost flavor the foggy air around him. He was beginning to worry again...

"So that means we stay nearby and wait until it's time-not that we could outrun them forever anyway," Harry said thoughtfully. The sight of the approaching dementors kept drawing Harry's attention away from Ron.

"Don't watch them, Harry," Ron advised. "It'll make it worse. Come on-let's go inside and wait. We can check on them every couple of minutes. With me?"

"They're blind; they can't see us anyway, Ron," Harry said.

"That's not the problem. _We_ can see _them_," Ron replied.

"Yeah-I reckon you're right," Harry admitted, adjusting his rucksack on his shoulders. Ron went to retrieve his own belongings and slung his rucksack over his shoulder as well.

Both boys moved to stand just inside the doorway, but watching Valeria whimpering and shaking as she sat huddled against the wall just outside really wasn't much of a relief. It took all of their willpower not to look up the hill, but they knew that the image of the dementors would only serve to weaken their already shaky confidence.

"So do we start on a Patronus, or watch the time for the transport?" Ron asked. "Can we do both?"

"I'm not sure how," Harry said. "Why don't- I'll try a Patronus, you keep track of the time."

"Right," Ron said, reaching for the watch Harry still held and strapping it to his wrist. "We must have burned five or six minutes by now. How long's it been since they left?"

"Three minutes," Harry replied.

"That's _all?_" Ron said. "We'll never get away before they get here!"

"Not if we have to wait fifteen minutes, we won't."

"So what are you saying then?" Ron asked. "Do you think we should try the Portkey anyway? Hermione and George didn't seem to think it would work until then."

"But they didn't seem too sure about any of it," Harry said. "Let's try, before the fog clears any more than it already has. What do you have to do for Valeria?"

"Just find her mind," Ron answered, "then link it between yours and mine, just in case. I don't know if we _have_to do it that way to take her with us, but since she's a Muggle, we might-I don't know."

"Do it then," Harry said determinedly.

"Oh-no problem -should be easy to relax right now," Ron said sarcastically, closing his eyes. "Real flippin' easy..."

Though his thoughts seemed more scattered and frantic than usual, and it took a bit longer to make the connection, Ron finally had all three of them connected.

"Damn, it's going to be hard to concentrate on anything with her like that," Ron said, nodding toward Valeria. Her thoughts and feelings were rattling around inside of his head, darting in and out of sensibility. "It's like trying to hold a conversation with one person while three others are talking in your ear about three different subjects-is that what it's like to be mental?"

"Can't blame her for feeling that way," Harry responded, "but you're right. We'll have to really concentrate on each other, especially if we have to-"

"Let's hope we _don't_have to," Ron broke in, not wanting to believe the worst would happen. He turned toward the door and stepped outside.

Ron approached Valeria quickly, but tried not to be overwhelming-she cringed and curled into a tighter ball as he came near. He looked down at her. She was trembling violently, her eyes dazed and frightened like an animal aware it was in the sights of a hunter. She forced her gaze up to him as she took short, uneven little gasps of air.

*The snake, Ron. Tom has the snake,* she thought to him shakily.

Ron had to force himself not to think about what she had told him. *We won't see Tom, Valeria. We'll be gone by then. But I need the Portkey.* Ron reached for the fishing hat she clenched tightly in both hands.

Surprisingly, she snatched it away from his reach, clutching it in her fists at one side. "George left. He-told-told me to hold it."

"If everything works out, we'll be seeing George right away," Ron said, wondering how her loyalty to George became so deep all of a sudden. He wasn't in the mood to play games with her, but he also realized he could make matters worse if he wasn't careful.

Valeria still glared up at Ron almost as if she didn't recognize him.

*George wants you to take it to him, Valeria,* Ron thought to her, hoping that hearing the words inside her mind would somehow help her believe they were true. *Did you see him leave? He's at Hogwarts-* Ron felt his eyes start to sting and his throat begin to close up. He took several deep breaths before he could even croak out the words that followed. *He's waiting for us.*

Ron reached down to her once more and though she stared into his eyes as if searching for something, she let down her guard. He pulled her up by her wrists, putting an arm around her shoulders in an attempt to make her move more quickly as they walked to the makeshift Portkey site.

"Okay, Valeria," Ron started, pulling her into place on the site. "You don't have to let go of the Portkey-hold onto it tight for George. Just that Harry and I are going to help you hold on so we don't lose it, all right?"

Valeria paused as if the thoughts were taking some time to process, but she eventually nodded her head and held the Portkey away from her body a bit.

"All right, it's been six minutes plus some. You think we should try it?" Ron asked.

"Why not? What have we got to lose? One thing I do know for sure is that if we wait, we won't be able to use it at all."

Ron and Harry reached out and touched the Portkey. Nothing happened.

"Damn!" Ron said. "But Hermione had to say some spell to try and boost the activation. Do you have any idea what it was?"

Harry thought a moment, then shook his head. "Not a clue. I was planning how to send George instead of listening."

They stood in silence, thinking.

"Ron-the Neutralizing Spell-the one George used on this. Did he ever counter it?" Harry asked, sounding afraid to know the answer.

Ron released a huge sigh. "Bloody hell!"

Valeria had been humming the sound she tended to make when she had enough to deal with inside her mind and could no longer cope with the outside world. Little, unintelligible mutterings also escaped her lips from time to time, but nothing that Ron or Harry could understand. It was just enough to distract them terribly.

"This is hopeless," Ron muttered. He could tell from his feelings that the dementors were getting closer.

"Dormantus transportii," Valeria said quietly.

Harry and Ron looked at one another.

"What, Valeria?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Dormantus transportii," she repeated without any emotion.

"Yes! Thank you, Valeria!" Ron said excitedly. "Can we counter that with the General Reversal Spell?"

"Try it-you've got the original now," Harry said, sounding encouraged.

Ron grabbed his wand with one hand from his back pocket and waved it briefly over the orange fishing hat they all held onto.

_""Dormantus transportii! ~ Invertare Incantato!"_

Suddenly the Portkey started to warm their fingers. With huge sighs of relief, Harry and Ron settled in and waited to be transported, each with one arm around Valeria's back to insure she wouldn't move involuntarily during the transport.

With one last glance toward the dementors that were only steps from the far side of the little bridge, Ron couldn't resist calling out to them gleefully.

"Sorry to leave you bloody vile little soulsuckers! Help yourself to the potato skins and fishheads!"

Harry looked wary of Ron's exuberance. "Ron, we're not out-"

The Portkey began to pop and sizzle. Sparks began to fly and the surface became so immediately and intensely hot that Ron and Harry had to let go. Only Valeria held onto the fishing hat, staring at it strangely, as if the hand holding it belonged to an entirely different person.

Ron grabbed her wrist and started snapping her hand downward repeatedly. Surely if she held onto the Portkey it would burn and melt itself to her palm and be useless to them forever (besides burning Valeria's palm severely). Thankfully without the presence of mind to resist Ron's actions, Valeria soon let go and the Portkey flew to the ground, still sparking and crackling.

"That's what it did before," Ron said.

"Yeah. George and Hermione _were_right-the polarity hasn't switched yet."

Ron looked down at the watch. "It's only been nine minutes. And we have eleven of something else to worry about now," Ron said as the last dementor finished crossing the bridge. He cursed himself for yelling and alerting the dementors to their presence.

Harry looked directly into his friend's face. "Let's go in the back. I don't know if it will help, other than to keep us from thinking of them, but we might get an extra minute or two. Then we can double back on the far side of the cottage and head for the Portkey site when it's time."

"Plus we'll be away from the woodpile," Ron said. "Remember the last time? Come on." Ron gingerly picked up the now quiet Portkey between his thumb and forefinger.

Ron and Harry started immediately for the back of the cottage, pulling Valeria along in between them. Once there, they lowered her gently to the ground against the wall at the far corner, trying not to take to heart her mutterings of "the snake...Tom has the snake..."

"You'll be fine right there," Ron tried to say gently, but Valeria seemed completely oblivious to everything around her anyway. He carefully ended the connection with her mind so that he and Harry could think without being distracted.

The two boys threw themselves flat against the cold back wall of the cottage, wishing there was something else, anything else they could do besides wait.

Harry looked resigned to what was about to happen, as if his shoulders were bearing the weight of the world. In Harry's case, it could have been close to the truth. He spoke in a low, grave voice. "I don't know where he is, Ron. But he's so close. The Portkey isn't going to take us out in time. We're going to have to take a stand against him."

Ron still wasn't sure what two teenagers could do against the most powerful Dark Wizard of their time, or even their parents' time, even if one of the teenagers _was_the legendary Harry Potter.

"But there's only two of us," Ron said, beginning to feel panic from within.

Harry paused a moment and then the corner of his mouth even tilted up a bit. "That makes the odds twice as good as the last time I faced him."

Ron didn't have to see them to see the dementors were getting closer-darker and sadder thoughts were pushing into his mind...  
_  
But if we can hold out long enough to use the Portkey, will it take us back to Hogwarts or...? No, we're not going to think about that. _But if anything had happened to his brothers, and especially to Hermione, he knew he'd rather suffer their same fate than go on.

_That's selfish, Weasley. You're worrying about something that can't be helped. But look around you. You have work to do- no wallowing in self-pity, you don't have the luxury of time to do that. Do something for the ones that you __**can **__help. You promised to save Valeria. You and Hermione vowed long ago to protect Harry. It's the least you can do, especially since Hermione isn't here to help. You'll have to fight alongside Harry twice as hard then-for the __**both **__of you.  
_  
Ron muttered to himself as he looked at Harry. "For the both of us,then..."


	27. Backed Against the Wall

**~Chapter 27~  
Backed Against the Wall**

As soon as the two boys turned to face the trail, a wave of blackness, evil, and sadness hit them so hard it might as well have been a wall of foul-smelling water. Momentarily stunned, Ron and Harry staggered backwards a few steps, still managing to force their hands to their wands and bring them out. They strained to see the trail from the bridge towards the north to see how much time they had before the dementors arrived. But they should have focused on a closer point.

From around the blind corner of the cottage floated eleven dementors in a huddle, still in a formation of sorts, still held together in a rough-hewn circle.

Ron noted that they seemed to have no agenda-they acted oddly, as if waiting for something, some signal, some dementor word that would release them to begin searching for their daily dose of souls. He could see Harry from the corner of his eye, starting to shake his head as if to clear it...

*Harry, stay with me. We can do this, we can do _something,* _Ron thought to his best friend, fighting off the darkness in his own thoughts and Harry's as best he could. *You wouldn't leave me before, you git,_ don't leave me now!* _

Suddenly Ron felt a burning on his forehead-it felt like a glowing-hot fireplace poker searing its way through his brain. With a jolt, he realized he was feeling the pain from Harry's scar-and with it came Harry's fear of whatever caused that pain. _Good thoughts, good thoughts, quick! Quidditch, Harry. Flying! Soaring like a bird above all this..._

Ron's fledgling good thoughts froze in place, though they appeared to have done Harry a little good. Still, his arms went numb as his wand dropped to his side.

The dementors had stopped their forward movement. They floated across the ground, their horrible, putrid odor swirling around the boys as the fog blew and rolled through the clearing air. The dementors' circle began to part, the beings moving into a line before them.

As the two outer rings of the circle moved away, the horror of the dementors no longer seemed of any significance. A new evil had taken its place; it held a darkness deeper than any blackness or despair Ron had ever known.

"What _is_this, Harry?" Ron asked, wincing from the nausea that was suddenly gripping his middle. "This isn't dementor sickness..."

Snatches of color could be seen between the dragging robes of the dementors as they moved, visions of different-colored robes and humanoid beings unlike any of the soul-sucking beasts in the outer circle. As the scabbed, angular, black-cloaked figures finally cleared away, the epitome of evil appeared before Harry and Ron.

Lord Voldemort had arrived.

The figure before them was like nothing Ron had ever seen-or felt- before.

He was tall, thin, his face the color of alabaster. His red eyes seemed to bore through anything they fell on, and his slit-like nostrils flared at the apparent excitement of finally capturing his prey. His dark olive green robes only served to enhance the chalkiness of his skin and the evil red glow of his eyes.

Somehow Ron had never imagined Voldemort would look like this. But then, he realized he had invested some effort in trying _not_to think about what Voldemort would look like. It had been too much to deal with after Harry and his own parents had ingrained in his mind the kind of evil that the wizarding world- and most certainly Harry Potter's closest ally-would one day have to face.

Standing next to the Dark Lord was someone who revolted Ron nearly as much as Voldemort, and this man didn't even do it by being the Darkest wizard in the known world. Peter Pettigrew stood sniveling at the side of the tall, skeletal man, his beady, wet, rat-like eyes staring at the two boys with some kind of sick pleasure.

Ron stood mute, his jaw hanging slightly, dumb-struck at such horror. A thought somewhere deep in his mind told him to raise his wand, but for some reason, the message would not connect with his body.

"Well, well, well-what have we found?" Voldemort's deep, sinister voice carried easily to the two boys. He leaned down to the little man at his side, muttering and pointing, apparently issuing instructions on how best to use the dementors to secure the area.

Ron found the presence of mind to look sideways at Harry. One glance told him that if they were to escape at all, they would have to get Harry out of there-fast.

*Harry-stay with me-you still there? Think good thoughts, Harry-please.* Ron struggled to come up with a good thought in the midst of the darkness and despair clouding his mind. *You don't have to face him alone, Harry. We're in this together, you and me, whatever happens.*

Harry's head drooped just a bit less; he looked up toward Ron with a weak look of gratitude. Ron's thought was helping-ever so little-but it was helping.

For a split second, Ron's mind focused on the reason he was here. The fact that he could use his telempathy to reassure Harry in spite of their dire circumstances gave him some insight into the reason that this gift so rare had been given to him-only him. All of a sudden it was easy to see that it had been in the works for years now, unbeknownst to him; all this time it had been readying him for some random meeting with Harry and fate.

*We've got to get you out of here, Harry-now!* Ron thought. The adrenaline from the success of the plan coming together in his mind was beginning to fend off some of the incoming evil feelings of the dementors. *I know you're feeling them. You're going to have to suck it up and run like hell. Can you do it?*

*Yeah-if we do it now,* Harry responded wearily. *Otherwise...*

*I'll buy you a minute or two here and meet you in the woods. I'll be right behind you.*

*To the woods?* Harry was getting groggier by the moment.

*Exactly.*

*I go right?*

Ron nodded. *You've got it. I go left. When you're ready-*

But Harry had already taken off, running full-bore for the woods near the creek. _Even with dementor sickness, _Ron thought,_ they didn't make Harry a Seeker for nothing.  
_  
"Get him!" Voldemort bellowed, swinging to his left to keep Harry in his sight. He fumbled recklessly with his right hand inside his robes, keeping the other hand stiffly at his left side. "Wormtail-!"

Wormtail responded immediately to his master's call, snapping his head to the left.

"This is for all the beatings I _should _have given you for chewing my sheets!" Ron cried indignantly.

Ron made it to Wormtail's side in three long strides, then used both hands and all his strength to shove the surprised little man into his master. Voldemort appeared to be juggling something, trying to regain his own balance at the same time he was fidgeting with something in his hands. Ron still couldn't see what it was.

"Imbecile!" Voldemort screamed at Wormtail. "You help me! Send the dementors after them!"

The dementors were squeaking by now, looking a bit more agitated than they had in their gliding arrival at the cottage. They started to float toward the commotion, meaning that they were using their eerie dementor senses to home in on Ron.

Looking back to see eleven dementors floating in his direction, Ron felt decidedly encouraged by Harry's escape. The good feelings so effectively fought off the sickness that Ron began to sense he could easily outrun the black-cloaked beasts. He felt he had time for one powerful good thought as Wormtail and Voldemort continued to sort themselves out.

"Hey, you bloody bastards-we beat the daylights out of you ugly blokes the last time. So you're back for more, eh? But-you have to catch me first!"

As the burst of air from a misaimed spell shot past his shoulder, Ron felt that he had probably stayed long enough. Ignoring the still-nagging, but dissipating feelings of sadness and despair to focus on his good thought, he set his feet in motion, pounding his way at a dead run toward the woods.

Making certain to follow Harry's path precisely, Ron entered the woods and caught up to his friend.

The two boys stopped to rest a minute, panting, behind a large clump of bushes that hid everything about them not already hidden by the trees.

"Feeling better?" Ron asked.

"Much-now that I'm away from those ugly buggers," Harry answered. "All of them behind you?"

"Just the dementors and maybe that sad excuse for a wizard Pettigrew. Somebody nearly took my right ear off with a spell, and I don't think You-Know-" It seemed childish to speak in code now that he'd stood before the man in question. "I don't think Voldemort had his wand out yet."

"What about Valeria?" Harry's voice sounded concerned.

"I don't know," Ron responded. "I didn't want to leave her there either. But she's on the far side of the cottage-I'm not even sure they saw her yet. Maybe if she's quiet...And I was hoping we could get back to her right away. I just knew that if we didn't get you out of there, we wouldn't have had your help at all -long time that would have lasted with just her and me."

"So I'm guessing you have a plan?" Harry asked.

"A damn good one-if it works," Ron answered.

"_If_it works? What do I do?"

"Strategy, Harry," Ron said instructively. "You stay here."

_"What?"_

"...And cast a Patronus," Ron continued. "We know what to do about dementors, right? We've got to get you past them first if we have any hope of getting Valeria and getting out of here in one piece, don't we?"

"Yeah."

"I'm going to lead these buggers out there, deep into the woods, give you about five minutes, then bring them right back at you. But you'd better have that Patronus ready to charge and chase them into the clearing by the cliffs. Up to it?"

Harry took a deep breath and exhaled. "Reckon I better hope so."

"I'll keep them as far away as I can before I bring them back around."

Harry frowned a bit. "You're sure you can outrun them?"

Ron sniggered in response, then looked back toward the cottage. "Look how long it's taken them to get this close. They're even slower than the twins." Ron paused a moment at that. "I'll leave my rucksack here, too."

"So Voldemort's not following you, then? Because you'd better hope he isn't," Harry warned.

"No, he stayed by the cottage," Ron said firmly. "Didn't Valeria say he couldn't move around much with that Orb? When I pushed Pettigrew, the two of them were all frantic about something Voldemort was holding. I think he's got the Orb with him. Okay, so you've got the plan-give me your shirt."

"What?" Harry said, confused.

"So they can't sniff you out," Ron said. "Bill told me that they're like bloodhounds, they are. If I have your shirt, they'll think I'm you. Well, at least they'll be confused. And I'll stay closer to them than you are, so they won't smell you first. Here, I'll give you mine."

"Hmm. Some treat that'll be."

Ron reached down for the bottom of his tattered, orange Cannons shirt, the front hem much shorter than the back after making Hermione's bandage. Pulling his shirt over his head, he held it out to Harry and shivered, even though he was standing in a patch of sunlight. "Good thing's the sun's out a little at least-the air's cold. Reckon it won't be when I'm running, though."

"We don't want the sun out, remember, because that means-" Harry stopped when he seemingly realized his idea did not fall into the 'good thoughts' category. He pulled his own shirt off and held it out to Ron, who shoved enough of it into his back pocket that it stayed there. "Put _some_thing on, Ron. You're blinding me here."

"Shut it, you." Ron was quite aware that his pasty skin hadn't seen much sun over the winter, but he was pleased that Harry was feeling well enough to joke with him.

As Harry pulled his head through the Cannons shirt, Ron noticed him wincing a bit. "It's coming back on you?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded.

"Okay-time to get them out of here then," Ron said. "I'm not sure if I can help with good thoughts and run, but we'll stay connected, in case I can. Good luck with that Patronus, Harry-see you in five minutes!"

It seemed as if the good thoughts had already started. The fact that the two boys could be working together as they were seemed to account for one enormous, continuous string of good thoughts all by itself. At least it seemed to be keeping Harry from getting groggy; Ron could feel it in his mind.

_Defeating the dementors the last time...the Cannons Quidditch match...escaping the spiders in the Anglia...laughing at Malfoy, the bouncing ferret-haha!...watching Norbert hatch..._

Ron tried to send the Patronus-inducing thoughts into Harry's mind as fast as he could while running along the edge of the woods. From this far ahead of them, Ron didn't feel the dementors' effects quite as strongly, which only helped produce the good thoughts faster. Breathing hard and diving in and out of the trees, occasionally slowing to look back and make sure the dementors were tracing his path, he found it easier to stay connected and send good feelings to Harry than he thought.

Minutes later Ron had led the dementors in a huge loop through the trees. Once in a while, he would reach down and grab up a handful of dirt and small rocks, throwing it several feet to his side and bouncing it from the trees so it would sound as if there were two people running. Apparently all those people who said that dementors weren't very bright were, luckily, spot on.

It had been a few minutes since he'd been in contact with Harry. Once he had started to swing into his long distance running mode, he had found it was more difficult to concentrate on sending the good thoughts. *Harry! You there? How's that Patronus coming? I'm rounding the last bend.*

*Ready, willing, and waiting,* Harry's thought answered almost cheerfully.

Harry was right. Darting out into the long narrow field that lay between the woods and the cliffs, Ron looked toward the spot where the two of them had been just a few minutes before. Breaking the long line of dark shade that outlined the edge of the woods was a brilliantly luminous figure.

There, pawing at the ground, stood Harry's magnificent silver-white Patronus, anxiously preparing to charge from the edge of the woods. As Ron approached the spot, running slower now, the stag shook his great head, his neck muscles rippling. Then he lowered the lethal-looking set of antlers and pounded his way into the middle of the field.

Ron ran into the woods to find Harry at the spot where the stag had emerged. Both boys turned and crouched behind the wild hedges at the edge of the trees, straining to watch what they could see of the show.

With so much movement over such a large area, it was difficult to see what was happening all at once. Flashes of silver-white would hurtle through their field of vision, while odd black shapes scurried off in all directions. Besides the vibrations from the ground they could feel through their shoes, Ron and Harry could also hear the surprised squeals and cut-off shrieks of the dementors as they worked to avoid the powerful set of antler points that could shred their robes and their scabby skin like paper.

The boys listened, and waited, and watched...

*My Patronus- he's out there, but I...* Harry thought. *It's taking a while-longer than I thought. Maybe there's just too many of them. He can't pull them all together enough to do any damage.*

*But how can we help a Patronus?* Ron asked seriously.

*I'm not sure...* A sudden, slow grin started to spread across Harry's face, replacing the confused expression. *Wait a minute-yes, I am. We can't help him, but something else can. Time for that Patronus, Ron.*

*But Harry, you know I can't-* Ron started to protest.

*No-the only thing I know is that you haven't. There's a big difference. Wand up, Weasley!* Harry waited for Ron to get his wand from his back pocket and slowly point, then he held his wand hand up next to Ron's. "You won't need mine, I don't think. But I know I couldn't have done it without you last time. So it's there if you need it."

Ron turned and quickly smiled at Harry. "Yeah?" Ron knew things wouldn't have gone the same in the first dementor battle without his telempathy. But somehow, to have Harry put it into words made it feel truer. He started to see himself as more of a partner with Harry, rather than just his sidekick best friend; the power it gave Ron made him feel, for the moment, invincible.

_"Expecto Patronum!...Expecto Patronum!...Expecto Patronum!" _Ron chanted.

Harry was pushing the good thoughts to help Ron this time, just in case, though Ron could feel it was hard for him to ignore the pain and confusion in his mind with the dementors so close again. *_Visiting Hagrid ... Christmas... snowball fights...sneaking out in the Invisibility Cloak-and getting away with it...I have a good one for __**you**__, Ron...long 'talks' with Hermione..."_

Ron kept chanting, but fired a sideways glance at his friend in mock irritation and created an evil-sounding tone in his mind. _*Shut up, Harry!*_

But the thought made both of them smile a little and eased the pain in their heads for a few more minutes. Closing his eyes to concentrate, Ron kept chanting.

Ron felt his wand swing wide and something powerful brush his hand. He and Harry peered into the dark shade under an enormous alder tree, trying to see what had emerged from the wand. A large, glowing silver-white mass squirmed some twelve feet away, but it was moving so much it was difficult to tell what shape it was. Suddenly, they heard several loud 'whooshes' and a great blast of air blew their hair back from their faces.

Surprised, Harry and Ron ducked down, just as an enormous silver-white creature flew over their heads onto a branch several feet above them. Its powerful body took up a wide space on the large branch, even in its crouched position. As the two boys sat staring in stunned silence below it, the creature let out a screech so loud that they jumped from the sheer volume of it.

Reaching to spread its magnificent wings to their full twelve-foot wingspan, the eagle nodded once slowly at Ron before it took flight, its cry echoing through the valley once it was in the air. The regal creature knew precisely what its purpose was, and it immediately winged its way out over the field, presumably to assist the stag in doing away with some of the already-frantic dementors.

Unable to stop themselves despite having to get closer to the danger, Ron and Harry stood and clambered over the hedges to the very edge of the shade. Half-running and half-crawling, they slowly made their way to a break in the bushes where they had an unobstructed view of the battle.

There were dementors scrambling everywhere. Those that weren't trying to evade the merciless points of the stag's charging antlers were crouching to avoid the deadly talons of the enormous eagle as it swooped and dove, relentlessly reaching for the hoods of the dementors, and the knobby, scabbed heads that were inside.

Once the two Patronuses had sufficiently intimidated the dementors, the eagle began to circle above the stag for a moment, peering down as if communicating in some fashion to find what their next move should be. The stag began to make charges in first one direction, then the other, zigzagging while the eagle manned the air attack, diving at those dementors who tried to escape the main group and driving them back towards the center of the pack.

It began to dawn on Ron and Harry that the stag and the eagle were working in tandem to 'herd' the dementors, moving them as a group toward the far side of the field. Though the two boys couldn't immediately discern why, it soon became clear: the dementors were being pushed toward the cliffs.

Looking at one another in utter disbelief, the boys doubled back to a point where the cover of the woods jutted out, nearly to the cliff's edge. As it became apparent to the dementors that they were not only being terrorized, but being tricked into their own demise, they began to squeal and shriek, pushing and clawing at one another to be the last one to remain standing on the cliff. But soon the entire group was perched on the edge.

The stag and the eagle, in another silent communication, looked at one another before beginning one last charge. The stag lowered its head and ran at the group of dementors, the eagle swooping in at the far end with its razor-sharp talons. With one mighty shove, several dementors were pushed over the edge, flailing and grabbing for the rocks on the cliffside, but unable to find a hold. Ron and Harry moved close enough to the rim to watch the miserable creatures fall farther and farther, landing in black, formless heaps on the rock footing below. Another great shove and more began falling; one that tried to escape was scooped up in the antler points of the great stag and was tossed over the cliff by itself.

As the eagle circled overhead, appearing satisfied that the last dementor had been thrown from the cliff's edge, the great bird spotted a dementor who had managed to grab hold on its way down. It clung to the cliffside, swinging by its two claws, holding onto a small plant growing out of the rock.

The eagle sped to within reach of the dementor and, his wings in full span, beat them powerfully as he hovered in mid-air just long enough to grab the dementor by the hood with his talons, likely puncturing the skull beneath. The huge bird flew the dementor perhaps a hundred feet out over the water, and dropped him unceremoniously into the breakers below.

The eagle flapped his great wings several times, soaring high into the air before he swung into a diving spiral directly overhead. He finally swooped down to land on the large, crooked branch of a long-dead tree that was near where the stag stood pawing the ground.

"Wow. Wicked," was all Ron could get out, as he stood staring in awe, shocked, at the Patronuses.

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

The two boys stood near the edge of the cliffs, then reluctantly looked back toward the cottage and the inevitable struggle that awaited them there.

"Are Patronuses any help against...?" Ron trailed off.

"Professor Lupin never really said-but I don't think so," Harry said quietly. "If only they were..."

The eagle screeched one long, last call, staring at Ron.

"What do I do?" Ron asked Harry tentatively, without breaking eye contact with the eagle.

"Let him know you were glad he came."

Ron lifted a hand in a half-wave, half-salute. The eagle acknowledged his movement with a dip of his head, then flew off in the direction of the higher mountains behind the castle ruin.

The stag stood waiting for Harry's acknowledgment-and as Ron already knew-always waited for a smile from Harry before he took his own leave into the woods.

"The fog's pretty clear now, but we'd better see if we can get that Portkey to work. You have it?" Harry asked.

"Right here," Ron answered, pulling it from his front jeans pocket where he'd stuffed it during their wait at the back wall of the cottage. "Erm- do you still have that dementor headache, too?"

"Yeah, but maybe it's just from all of-this," Harry answered. "We saw all of them get smashed on the rocks down there, though I doubt if that will kill them. Don't know if anything stops them since they're already dead. Maybe they're still too close, even down there."

"Did it seem like there were eleven of them?" Ron asked. "I tried counting, but those little clouds of fog kept blowing by and interrupting. And they never stood still long enough for me to be sure."

"It didn't seem like that many, but-let's just get Valeria and get out of here," Harry said.

"Now that the dementors are gone, maybe we stand a chance against that maniac," Ron said.

Harry returned to complete seriousness now that they were heading back in the direction of Lord Voldemort. "Only if we can trick him and get away with the Portkey. And I'm getting more worried every minute." Small bits of fog were blowing in very random patches across the field, but the whole area was predominantly sunny now.

Ron took one last look at the formless black shapes at the foot of the cliffs, then pulled Harry's shirt out of his back pocket and put it on.

As the two boys emerged from the wooded area, they found a large granite boulder to hide them from view so they could take stock of what was happening at the cottage. And what they saw made their hearts sink into their shoes.

There, in the clearing behind the cottage, stood Lord Voldemort, his one hand held open with the glittering silver Orb twinkling in the sunlight. In his other hand was his wand, presumably now ready for any surprise attacks from the woods or elsewhere. He was busily criticizing his little rat-like servant.

Wormtail stood on the other side, wringing his hands and cowering before the onslaught of complaints from his master.

A few feet away from them sat Valeria on a small, flat rock. But what sickened Ron and Harry was what they saw around her. No ropes were necessary to bind her; neither Voldemort nor Wormtail seemed too preoccupied with keeping their wands pointed at her in case she might try to escape. But coiled around the poor girl was the largest snake Ron had ever seen.

The snake surrounded her from her neck to her toes, its head bobbing and weaving next to her feet as if they were already sharing the same body. Valeria was deathly pale, but the boys could see her moving her head a bit as if she were fighting very hard to remain conscious.

"What-are we going to do?" Ron asked, sounding defeated already. "All that snake would have to do is squeeze her a little tighter-"

"I know," Harry said, interrupting and sounding as if he wanted no further details.

"Can we just rush him and-" Ron started.

"No. Ron, you're thinking this is an ordinary wizard. I can tell you he's not."

To prove Harry's point, Voldemort lifted his nose as if sniffing the wind, but then he scanned the edge of the woods until-

Voldemort turned his laser-like gaze to look directly into their eyes, even as they remained in their hiding place and stood at a distance of some two hundred feet.

"Oh, if it isn't Harry and his little friend! Ron Weasley, isn't it?" Voldemort said, obviously having used the Sonorus Spell to charm his voice so they could hear him. "You've been off playing just a bit too long. Do come out, boys. We need to have a little chat about your damsel-in-distress here, among other things."

Ron tried to shrug off the chill that ran through him at Voldemort's use of his name. *Well, if the jig's up, we might as well show him what we're made of,* he thought to Harry. Unable to imagine what even Voldemort might do from this distance, and feeling particularly brave after having defeated the dementors for the second time, Ron raised his fist above the level of the bushes and shook it as he began to yell. "Oy! Do you think we're just going to walk over there and give up-to _you?_ Harry Potter would never do that-_never! _And you might as well get used to-"

"Ron," Harry said quietly at his side.

"Just a minute," Ron replied to Harry before continuing his rant. "You might as well get used to the fact that he's the one who's going to kick your-!"

_"Ron-save it!"_Harry insisted, then began to grimace.

A bit irritated at having been interrupted again, Ron turned aside. _"What?" _he hissed.

Harry nodded to something behind the two of them, but he didn't appear to be feeling too well.

Turning slowly to look over his right shoulder, Ron found himself staring at the front midsection of a black cloak. His gaze followed up the cloak to reveal the dementor standing not three feet away, then he looked beyond to see a dementor standing on either side of the first one as well.

"That's why we still felt the headache," Ron muttered.

*Quick-before this gets worse...* Harry was obviously having trouble shouldering both the Darkness of having the dementors this close and the pain in his scar. *Take out your wand, charm it with _Adhesivus_, then shove it down your pants leg.*

Ron looked confused for a moment, then started to comply. *But they'll-oh, yeah, reckon they _won't_see.* Both of them did as Harry had suggested before the dementors started to move closer and the boys began to trudge their way to the area behind the cottage.

As they approached him, Voldemort's face broke into a sickening smile, then a deadly grin. Next his entire head seemed to open up with a hearty, evil laugh that echoed down the cliffs.

"Bind their hands!" Voldemort spat. "Strip them of their wands!"

Next to the Dark Lord, Wormtail jumped at his master's orders; he moved around in back of Ron and Harry, mumbling the spell to issue magical ropes from his wand and tie their wrists tightly behind them. He checked around their bodies, patting at their pockets. "There are no wands, master."

Harry wriggled away from Wormtail as he patted at his side with his only fleshy hand. "We don't have them! We left them back in our rucksacks in the woods!" Harry said irritably.

"Yeah-bloody fine idea to do that!" Ron complained at Harry, trying to make the lie seem more convincing.

"You'd better not be lying, Harry," Voldemort warned. "Surely you didn't think I was stupid enough to let you go after all the trouble I've gone to. These three-" he indicated the dementors still on guard behind Harry and Ron, "-were keeping track of you in the woods all along. Actually, I should thank you for taking care of a little problem for me. You see, I had no further need of those dementors your little pets sent over the cliff, as they were becoming rather-bothersome."

The tall, skeletal man let his head drop back into another loud, maniacal belly-laugh.

Finally, Voldemort looked up, staring intently at Harry and speaking with a sickening sweetness in his voice. "Well, Harry, let's start again, shall we? We do seem to keep bumping into one another. Imagine you coming to Ireland...me coming to Ireland...both of us happy-go-lucky lads deciding to head off on a whim at the same time..."

Voldemort's long, bony fingers toyed with the lapel of his green robes, but Ron had trouble watching as the horrific wizard spoke. He had to look away from the spider-like hands to keep from retching on the ground right there and then.

"... Once I'd discovered you were here, I simply had to do my best to contact you. I wanted you to be my guest at my humble little country abode on the hillside." Voldemort glanced in the direction of the castle ruin. "But you didn't see fit to come. Harry, Harry, I was so disappointed in you-you've hurt my feelings so... "

Glancing to his side, Ron could see that Harry was looking a bit more revived at the moment, probably from the adrenaline pumping through his veins, for Ron could also feel the anger rising in his friend's heart. The almost palpable hatred virtually emanated from Harry, hatred that also showed on his face as he stared at the Dark wizard.

Yet Voldemort continued, his gaze shifting to Valeria. "I even had the lovely Valeria do her best to persuade you-and she does look as if she could be _very_persuasive. Too bad she's a little-" The Dark Lord raised his hand to his head and tapped one bony forefinger on his temple. There was no mistaking his implication.

Ron could feel the explosiveness in his friend's mind-the emotions screaming through Harry right now were nearly as distracting as Valeria's had been earlier.

"_You _did that to her," Harry growled quietly yet intently, narrowing his eyes and obviously seething. "That's your fault! _You_ ruined her life-all because of me! Well-_here! _Here I am! You deal with me and leave her alone!"

"Patience is a virtue, Harry," Voldemort said snidely. "Didn't your father teach you anything?" Voldemort paused a moment, as if he was thinking. "Oh, that's right. I killed him before he got a chance to teach you anything."

Ron could feel the blood pounding in Harry's temples; he could feel through his mind the pain of fingernails pressing into the palms of fists clenched so tightly they ached.

"All in good time, dear boy," Voldemort reassured. "I'll deal with you all in good time. Wormtail, you've forgotten to say hello to _your_old friend. Surely you two haven't seen each other in some time."

Wormtail just grinned at Ron and laughed a terrible, wheezing laugh that seemed to whistle through his yellow-gray front teeth.

Ron bristled, the adrenaline beginning to pump through his own veins and combating that Dark feeling of the dementors' presence in his mind. "It hasn't been long _enough!" _Ron started, glaring at Wormtail. "I knew it was you! Taking our wands, chewing our Portkeys! To think I used to care about you and defend you! Urgh-I should have never saved you from that cat! Now I'd _love_to see you ripped to shreds in front of me!"

"Oh, my my!" Voldemort cut in. "Such ugly talk from such a powerless little boy!"

Ron made an angry noise deep in his throat and clenched his fists, preparing to spring at Voldemort. Harry reached out and touched his arm as an indication to stay where he was.

*Damn it, Harry-maybe I couldn't kill him, but I could do some damage!*

*You don't know what you're saying, Ron. We've got to be smart to get out of this _alive_,* Harry thought to him.

Voldemort laughed at Ron's obvious anger and spoke quietly to Wormtail a moment.

*Can you see the Portkey site?* Harry thought slowly to Ron. *Is it open?*

Ron forced himself to stop staring at the Dark Lord and Wormtail and leaned back to look past Harry to the other side of the cottage. *Yeah-I see it. It looks clear.*

*Think we'd get there if we made a run for it?*

As if able to read their thoughts, the Dark Lord stepped up to hold the Orb closer to their faces. "So, gentlemen, how _do_you like my new toy?" Voldemort was holding his hand out flat before him, the Orb spinning in perfect, balanced motion above it.

Harry's and Ron's attention was pulled away from their own thoughts as they stared at the sparkling, spinning Orb in front of them.

"Yes, the Orb does indeed exist. I'll wager you thought it was only the stuff of legends. Little did you know I've been in charge of your departure from practically the start. Or should I say, the departure you _haven't_made? But doesn't the Orb make for the loveliest sunny days? Of course, they're not to my taste, but some of the simpler folk like them." The evil laugh spilled from his mouth once more.

Ron and Harry glanced at one another and sighed quietly. The sun was burning brightly now, the fog was held at bay for miles around them; the Orb Spell was working perfectly...

...And the Portkey was no longer an option.

Ron started to feel as if this must be like Christmas for this evil bloke. The vile wizard certainly seemed pleased with his own power. Could they outrun him or any curse he could fire at them while he was busy appreciating himself? He glanced all around them again-at the woods, the cliffs, the valley- to assess their chances.

The despair and hopelessness were leaking into his own mind again, and he felt it pouring into Harry's. *Harry, fight them. Good thoughts, Harry,* he pleaded through the connection, realizing afterwards how ridiculous it sounded just then. Ron had trouble coming up with even one good thought to force into his friend's mind as the blackness began to deepen. He was beginning to feel the hopelessness of overcoming the immense power they were up against.

The Darkness began completely closing out part of Harry's mind. Harry looked as if he was fighting to keep his heavy eyelids open and remain standing without fainting. But his knees were beginning to wobble and Ron worried that he would soon fall.

Voldemort watched Harry with some amusement for a few minutes. "Just can't fight it, now can you, Harry? Your parents were particularly susceptible to dementor sickness, too. I guess that would mean it must be a dominant gene- just happens that it's a gene that endows you with a very embarrassing weakness."

"Don't even_ talk_about my parents, you murderer!" Harry said weakly as Ron stepped close to help hold him in a standing position.

"Oh, don't fret so," Voldemort said, seeing Ron's action. "I still have a little talking to do with Harry. Old friends do that, you know. So I'll give him just a little push to help him fend off the dementor sickness._ Oscurus Lentamentarum!_There now. That should hold just long enough. Can't have anyone accuse me of not giving my friend Harry a chance now, can I?"

"He doesn't need bloody friends like you! No one does, except maybe _him!"_Ron blurted out, nodding at Pettigrew. He did realize with a bit of relief that the spell Voldemort had cast on Harry to help him resist the dementor sickness was working on his mind as well through the connection.

Voldemort turned his head toward the great evil snake and started to speak in Parseltongue, hissing and spitting.

*What's he saying, Harry? Can you tell?* Ron thought.

*He's telling her she shouldn't have come,* Harry thought back dully. His head still hung down slightly, but he was standing mostly on his own now. *She wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to wait at the castle for him and prepare for the Embodiment Spell they're going to do later tonight. There's some potion she needs to start taking to soften her bones and her organs. It's in her water feeder...*

*Oh my god-they really are going to do it,* Ron said, his stomach rising into his throat.

Harry listened to Voldemort's eerie language carefully again for a moment. *Voldemort's telling the snake-her name's Nagini, I think- that he'll take good care of Valeria's body for her. He wants her to go over in that open area near the cliff.*

Ron watched the snake uncoil from around most of Valeria's body. But it left its tail wrapped firmly around one of Valeria's legs, reluctant to let go. Valeria was jolted to full consciousness as she was pulled off the low rock and she started to scream immediately. She flailed helplessly behind the snake, trying to get away, as the snake began to slide its way toward the place Voldemort had instructed it to go.

Flinging herself from side to side and still screaming at the top of her lungs (though her voice was now getting hoarse), Valeria was dragged along behind the snake as Nagini held on firmly to her one leg. Apparently certain that the Embodiment Spell was imminent, she finally fainted along the way and the screaming ceased.

Ron wasn't certain which was worse-the horrified screaming or the deathly silence. Harry and Ron watched miserably as Valeria's limp body was pulled through the dirt a foot at a time until she was only a few feet from them. But they knew they dared not move to help her right now.

The evil wizard pushed his left hand to his side, still making sure to maintain his balance and also concentrate on the Orb. He continued to speak in Parseltongue as Harry interpreted for Ron in his mind.

*Voldemort thanked her for her help in luring us back here.*

His eyes narrowing in thought, Ron's brow knitted at something he'd noticed while Voldemort spoke. *Watch the Orb, Harry,* Ron thought. *He's not concentrating. Didn't Hermione-*

Ron's thought stopped dead. He had to let the feeling of desperation pass before he could go on, willing himself to believe she was all right. *Didn't Hermione say it required a lot of concentration from the wizard who was maintaining the spell?*

*Yeah-and he's not paying attention. Look, the wobbling in the spin is getting worse.*

As the two boys watched the Orb, they felt another set of beady eyes glaring into their faces. Their attention was drawn away from the Orb and on to Wormtail, the owner of those eyes.

Ron felt the hatred from Wormtail's betrayal rising in him again; it was all he could do not to lunge at the round, foul-looking little man.

"I will see you at the castle shortly, once we've taken care of some business here," Voldemort said to Nagini in English, presumably for his servant's benefit. "Wormtail will take very good care of your body for you, believe me-or else he knows the price he'll pay. Don't you, Wormtail? "

Looking very afraid of his master's implication, Wormtail nodded curtly.

"You must let go of her now, my dear. That's a good Nagini. It won't be long now!" Voldemort said, brandishing his wand and chanting the Banishing Charm that immediately sent the enormous snake back to the castle with a bright flash and a loud bang.

"Hmmm. Now where were we?" Voldemort looked over at Valeria's motionless body before speaking with sarcasm in his voice. "How very sad. Pity she's going to miss the very few remaining hours in her own body."

"She wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for me," Harry mused. "You ruined her life-her entire life! Now you're going to kill her for your stupid snake!"

"Well-be fair now, Harry," Voldemort said, ridiculously trying to sound like a reasonable being. "I didn't ruin her _whole_life. I didn't send the dementors to invade her mind until she was almost three years old. True, she did lose her parents, but then, that builds character, doesn't it? ...As only you ought to know. Surely you've learned to see the benefits of a life independent of parents, haven't you?"

Harry closed his eyes and clenched his jaw; he was obviously so angry that he was beyond words.

"Well, I think it's time for us to split up now," Voldemort said as if he was assigning tables for dinner. "Wormtail, you'll stay with Valeria and make sure she doesn't awaken and do something stupid. I'd prefer you to stay with her because she seems to have developed something of a resistance to the dementors for some reason. "

Voldemort turned to glare at Ron. Ron did his best to glare back, but the intensity of that much evil directed at him caused him to look a bit to the side of Voldemort's eyes, rather than directly into them.

Voldemort continued. "Once I'm all done here, you'll accompany Valeria to the castle and prepare her for the Embodiment Spell. You _do_think you can manage a little girl, now don't you?"

Wormtail moved next to Valeria's limp body as she lay on the ground in the same position in which Nagini had left her. He reached down and placed two fingers from his fleshy hand on the side of her throat, apparently checking to be sure that his charge was still alive. He seemed satisfied that she was all right, but still crouched over her to make sure she was kept away from harm.

"I'll be keeping my friend Harry here for myself so that we can have our little chat," Voldemort said. "Surely you don't mind waiting just a moment longer now, do you, Harry?"

Harry flashed an evil look in the Dark Lord's direction, but remained silent.

"And now, you-you!" Voldemort pointed vehemently with his free hand while the other hand still suspended the spinning Orb. He was speaking to the three dementors who were grouped together behind Harry and Ron, now animatedly gesturing and squeaking from time to time. Apparently they were involved in some sort of squabble. "Stop this instant or you'll end up at the bottom of the cliff with the rest of your pack! Just go ahead and tempt me to do it!"

At first acting as if Voldemort was just a momentary distraction, the three dementors grudgingly moved apart, still baring their toothless mouth openings at one another and making threatening gestures.

"Your time has come," Voldemort said. "You may take this boy aside with you and share his soul amongst yourselves. If he's so anxious to teach others how to resist dementors, let him try and resist all three of you at once."

Ron and Harry looked frantically at one another as the implication sunk in.

"Ron-" Harry couldn't help but say aloud.

Ron paled and felt as if everything about him had gone numb. He'd been frantically trying to think of some way for Harry and him to save themselves, but now, in an instant, all hope was gone. His eyes wide, he shrugged his shoulders at Harry, unable to think of anything else to do.

Voldemort returned his attention to the three dementors who had started to float closer to Ron. "Harry and I must have our little chat before you finish him off, though. You'll wait for my signal, understand? I'm not in the mood to listen to your squabbling while you're licking up the remnants of his soul."

The three dementor guards closed in around Ron. In trying to keep from touching them, Ron was forced slowly away from Harry. _Well, they're taking me near the cliffs,_ Ron thought to himself. _Maybe I should run and jump and see if I could survive the fall... _Ron remembered the morning when he couldn't find Hermione and how he had looked over the edge. _No, nothing except maybe a dementor would survive that,_ he thought dejectedly. _Might as well go out remembering that morning-at least it was an amazing one. _The blackness in his soul told him that there was simply nothing else to be done. The oppressive despair of the dementors was beginning to kill him already.

Ron looked back at Harry once more as he shuffled along between the dementors, his hands still bound by the magical ropes. It seemed that Voldemort must have been, in some way, regulating the amount of resistance Harry had against the dementors. Harry looked groggy and desperate, but was aware enough to be staring at him with tears welling in his eyes.

*Don't worry, Harry,* Ron thought. *We knew it could come to this all along. But we had a damn fine time till now. Tell Hermione how much I-well, she'll know. If you can find any way out of this, Harry, you and Hermione find some way to do those bastards in-all of them-him, the Death Eaters, Malfoy, all of them. Do it for me, Harry. You know I'd do it for you. And if there's no way out for you either, then remember...we did it for everything right. Even when we were going about it wrong-we did it for everything right.*

The three dementors stopped Ron no more than ten feet from the edge of the cliff. They stood around him as sentinels, hovering in anticipation. Ron felt the weight of their Darkness and despair so heavily on him that it was as if he were carrying all three on top of him. Peering between them, he could see Harry and Voldemort some thirty feet away.

_So here I stand, just waiting to die,_Ron thought. He started to feel a bit faint and was wondering if he'd succumb to the dementor sickness before they... perhaps that would be a blessing.

But suddenly he saw between the dementor cloaks that Voldemort was showing something to Harry. The two of them were looking at a huge smokescreen of sorts that had a large, moving picture on it. Ron squinted through the blurriness in his vision to see it more clearly.

Standing together somewhere, in some room, were Fred and George and Hermione-they were alive! But where were they? It didn't look like Hogwarts. The three of them were all faced in the same direction, toward whoever was taking the picture, but what was that in the background...?

The dementors around Ron had stood perfectly still for a few minutes once they'd reached the cliff's edge, but now they were beginning to posture and gesture to one another again. They seemed to be trying to set up some pecking order for which of them would feed on Ron's soul first.

Very nonchalantly and carefully, Ron eased his way back through a space they had left as two of them ganged up on the third. With their involvement in their own argument, the dementors didn't even notice.

Backing up just a bit more, Ron could lean far enough away from their squeaking that he heard Voldemort boasting to Harry about how he had captured and killed the three people on the screen. The picture had been taken just before their demise.

_Captured and killed? So the Portkey didn't work! It was a set-up all along!  
Hermione and my brothers are DEAD? And I'm about to join them?_

Ron could feel his throat tighten hard and the tears welling in his eyes. He reflexively reached to wipe the tears so that his vision wouldn't be blurred by them any further than it already was.

Amazingly, his hand pulled loose! It startled him so much that he shoved it back into the ropes and looked at the dementors, making sure that none of them had noticed. But they were still busy with their bickering. Testing his bonds behind him, Ron pulled his wrists apart and found that the magical ropes Pettigrew had bound him with were now strangely elastic! They stretched enough for him to wriggle his hands free whenever he wished. But...how?

Ron looked at Wormtail as he crouched over Valeria. For whatever reason, Pettigrew had given them a chance. But he'd need to wait for the right moment...

The blast of good thoughts from this news began to push away the blackness in his mind and his heart. He wasn't so despondent any more, except that instead...He looked back at the screen before Voldemort and Harry. _He killed them,_ Ron thought. _For no other reason than to get to Harry and Valeria and me-he killed them._ He gave himself permission to feel the anger and ruthlessness it caused in him. _Damn, that feels good! _The anger rose in him so furiously that it swept away any further wisps of dementor sickness that were still inside his mind.

He felt the hot rush of the anger he owned-it was _his_ anger again-the anger that had saved him from the dementors before. But this time he had even more of an advantage. He not only had anger, but he had reckless anger, do-it-because-nothing-else-mattered anger. _If Hermione and my brothers are dead-I don't deserve to live either-I'm the one who got them all into this mess._

_Except for one thing...maybe I can live just long enough to help set Harry free..._It was unfair of him to resign himself to Harry's death as well, and dash the hopes of the entire wizarding world along with him.

It had never occurred to Ron that he might try to face down someone as evil as Voldemort alone-he always figured it was Harry's destiny to deal with the worst if they were together. Ron never saw himself as the hero-he was fairly sure he couldn't do it. He had always been bold and fairly brave, but he figured Harry had more inner strength and stronger magic. Of course Harry'd always be the hero. Ron had just chalked it up to fate-some people were meant to do more than others, and Harry was one of them.

Yet all at once his own fate was crystal clear to him.

Ron's destiny was to give Harry that chance.


	28. Where There's a Will

**~ Chapter 28 ~**  
**Where There's a Will...**

The anger was helping. He knew what he had to do.

Ron leaned away from the three remaining dementor guards as they argued about who would be the first to suck his soul from his body, and who would get the leftovers. _So now I know how the Christmas goose feels the day before... _he thought. He'd nearly managed to back far enough away that he could have wandered off by himself.

But apparently the dementors were far too hungry to let their main course leave on its own. Just as he took another step back, the dementors noticed and circled around, hemming him in again.

_No matter. _Voldemort claimed he had murdered everyone in the first Portkey party-that must have had something to do with that horrible noise as they departed. Ron knew he could never face returning to his family without the twins. And life without Hermione? That was just-unthinkable. For some reason, he wasn't even that emotional thinking about his own death-he realized it was probably the shock talking, and the horrible depression foisted upon him by the dementors. But to Ron-right now-it was simply something that had to be done. It made him wonder if perhaps he now understood Valeria's resignation about killing herself the night that she had almost jumped off the cliff.

So it was perfectly clear. He, Ron Weasley, was about to give Harry Potter the chance to live and finish something for the wizarding world that had been started fourteen long years ago.

Ron shook out his shoulders and legs, feeling his wand still spell-stuck to his skin under his pant leg. He took one last look over the beautiful ocean and the clear sunny sky-those things he would miss...and his family...and Harry...and especially Hermione-but he would be missing her no matter what he did now, anyway. _Better to take death into my own hands than stand here and wait for the dementors to do it. At least I'll be dying my way, for something I believe in, for Harry..._

_Time to feel the rage, Weasley. It's one of the things you've always done best..._

He began by thinking about the way Voldemort had ruined Valeria's life, that of an innocent Muggle child caught up by mistake in the Dark Lord's evil scheme. Ron kept thinking-about his brothers and the fun, love, and laughter the world would be missing without them. And finally, he thought of Hermione-her brilliance, her courage, her love for life and his love for her-all of it taken, wasted, spent on the whim of some evil being who wasn't worth even one day in the lifetimes he'd so nonchalantly taken.

Ron felt the heat rising in himself-felt it wiping away the despair of the dementors, felt himself gaining courage from the pressure of the anger building inside of him, felt it wash away any hope of thinking rationally to talk himself out of it..._One more long deep breath...in...out...in-_

_Let it burn! _Ron ripped his wrists away from each other behind him, the magical ropes flying in all directions. He shoved his hand down to his leg, grabbed his wand, raised it and turned, all in one swift move. Letting his anger and his body push the dementors violently apart, he burst through their circle-

*Harry! You can pull the ropes apart! Try it!* he thought to his friend as the sound of his Banshee-yell diversion echoed from the cliffs.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Harry groggily pull his hands free and start to retrieve his wand from his own pant leg.

But Ron didn't have time to watch. He had a mission. Raising his wand, he thought of the only curse he knew that might render both Voldemort and Wormtail harmless long enough for Harry to take over.

Pointing his wand straight at Voldemort's face as he charged, he shouted, _"Petrificus To-!"_

But the green blast he saw exploding toward him from the end of Voldemort's wand stopped Ron's spell midway.

Ron felt the enormous fireball hit him squarely in the chest, knocking the air from his lungs and his feet from the ground as it burned its way into his body. The force of the blast carried him backwards through the air, faster and farther than he would have thought possible. He felt the wind speeding past his ears, and vaguely heard screams and a familiar voice yell, _"RONNNNN!"_

Expecting to be blown over the cliff and then feel himself falling, Ron felt himself hit something hard that didn't stop his momentum but was carried along with him. In the split second he had to think, it felt vaguely like skeletons were all around him.

There was scrambling and grabbing and falling and burning and hurting and flying...

And then- everything went black.

# # #

"Did you feel that, Moody?"

Sirius had followed the scent for a half day now, but what he'd smelled was not what caused him to transform from Snuffles into his wizard form.

"Feel what?" Moody grumbled.

"That-shaking. That vibration in the ground," Sirius said impatiently. "Don't tell me you didn't feel that."

"You've been sniffing up too many wild herbs here, Black. Time to take a break."

"No-no, it was like an explosion was set off," Sirius insisted. "But far away-and you already know how many people we _haven't_seen out here. What are the chances some Muggle would be dynamiting to build a new suburb? Zero to maybe-none?"

"So what are you saying?" Moody asked, sitting down on a flat rock to rest his feet.

"I don't know, exactly. I just know it's damned peculiar. And I want to know what it was."

"Maybe we'll be able to see something when we get to the top of that ridge." Moody had pulled off his shoe and was shaking tiny rocks from it. "That spire we can see up there might be part of an old tower or something-maybe you can climb it and see what your 'vibration' could have been from there."

"Well, let's go," Sirius said anxiously. "How long are you going to rest_ this_time?"

"I _just_sat down, Black. Don't get your knickers all in a wad." The old Auror was now replacing the shoe on his foot, only to start brushing away the rock bits stuck into the bottom of his wooden pegleg.

Sirius didn't know whether it was a human or a canine sense that told him that vibration meant something. But he was damned sure going to find out what it did mean-and not after waiting for Moody's rest break.

"I'll meet you up there. That tower-right there," Sirius said, pointing. "See it?"

Moody didn't answer, just nodded his head and waved Sirius away.

# # #

The flames finally out, Harry grabbed at his forearm. The remaining sleeve of Ron's Cannons shirt that he'd been wearing was black and smoldering; Harry's skin was already blistering underneath. He stood in miserable, infuriated silence, his eyes finally traveling up slowly to the Dark Lord's serpentine face.

"Potter, you'd better be thankful I still have need of you-or that would have been a deadly mistake," Voldemort growled. "I told you you'd better not be lying about the wands. Stupid children-that's all you are-unable to see the obvious, that there's no hope of overcoming my power."

It had all happened so fast.

Ron, bursting through the circle of dementors, shouting at the top of his lungs to create a diversion, his wand poised. At the same time, he sent Harry the thought that the wrist bindings were elastic, that he could get free and pull his wand.

That moment gave Harry the chance to throw off most of the grogginess the dementors caused in him and get his wand ready for action. But it had cost Ron precious time. In the same horrendous moment, Ron tried to cast a spell on Voldemort and the evil wizard had returned fire, but he hit Ron first... As Ron was blasted toward the cliffs, the huge spell fireball shot him over the ground, his hurtling body crashing into the three surprised dementors and taking them over the side of the cliff with him-over the side and-Harry was certain- taking Ron to his death...

_"RONNNNNN!"_Harry shouted from the depths of his being, but Harry could see nothing of his friend.

Then he turned on Voldemort._ "YOU! _You kill everyone that means something to me! _EVERYONE!_ Kill ME this time! _KILL ME!" _In a complete furor, Harry had snapped his wand up to point it at Voldemort, poised to strike. _"MURDERER!" _He'd never uttered the words before nor tried to cast the spell, but this time he didn't care and it didn't matter. _"CRUCI-!"_

But Harry's reactions, still affected by the dementor sickness, were just a millisecond too slow. Voldemort swung his wand around a moment after blasting Ron away, yelling,_"Expelliarmus!"_

The wand flew from Harry's hand, and Harry leaped toward it, reaching to retrieve it if only he could have been fast enough. But he grasped at thin air.

"Inflamare!" the Dark Lord said tersely.

Harry's entire shirt sleeve burst into flame as his wand clattered to the ground.

Harry didn't care at first. Why would he need a healthy, working arm when Voldemort was going to kill him anyway? The pain was intense, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.

Yet something else was burning inside of him, too-the need for revenge. He wasn't sure as he slapped at the flames whether they would burn the delicate wood of his wand before he cast the Killing Curse on Voldemort, or if Voldemort would simply get the better of him should he be able to get to his wand. Right now, surviving this was the worst possible ending Harry could think of. But Ron had told him to do it for him, do it for all of them-avenging their deaths was the least he could do for the very best friends he'd ever had, Harry thought. He'd have to wait for a chance again...

Voldemort's wand was pointed straight between Harry's eyes, the Orb glinting silently above his other hand. He leaned very close to Harry and began to speak quite softly, but intensely.

A few feet away, Harry noticed Valeria was moaning, recovering from her second faint. Wormtail was hanging over her like a mother hen over a chick, apparently trying to complete his appointed task of protecting her from harm for Nagini's sake. He also appeared as if his own fears were making him wish he was invisible.

"Imbecile!" Voldemort screeched at Wormtail. "You can't even bind children well enough to stop them from escaping? Mere children?_ Crucio!" _Voldemort pointed his wand at his servant.

Wormtail fell to the ground near Valeria's side, writhing and screaming. The little man, wracked with pain, rolled on the ground alongside the girl whose mind was so unstable from Voldemort's meddling that she could no longer deal with the real world. It all sickened Harry.

Voldemort returned his attention to his own charge, seemingly unconcerned. "There's only one thing I want from you, Harry," Voldemort began. "No, it's not even your life, unless I can't get what else I want. It's just one little thing-one little piece of you that has never ceased to drive me mad. It was part of your parents, too, and they refused to give up theirs. It was what led to their deaths. I hope you're smart enough to learn from your parents, Harry, even after they're gone."

"If they didn't give up, then neither will I-whatever it is you want!" Harry snarled.

"But it's so simple," the Dark Lord stated. "All I want is- your will."

Harry narrowed his eyes in slight confusion.

"A will can be a wonderful thing, Harry. It can push you to gain more from yourself and from others-or it can hinder you at every turn. I've seen the will in you, Harry."

Harry stared into the deep redness of Voldemort's eyes. It hurt like hell, but he was determined that Voldemort see the conviction in his soul.

"Your will is healthy and strong," Voldemort continued. "I've actually admired it when I wasn't hating you for using it against me. You managed to fend off even the Imperius Curse with its strength the last time we met. I know how a strong will works inside of you-just as you were succumbing to the Curse, that little voice inside of you fought back, telling you not to give in-that was your will. You even managed to make the joined power of our wands turn against me-against me!-its rightful owner!

"A will is not a magical thing, Harry, depending on how you use it. You had yours the day you set foot in Hogwarts, before you knew your first spell. I was there with our dear friend Professor Quirrell. It was your will that made certain you were Sorted into Gryffindor House instead of Slytherin. But what a foolish choice! Your will would have taken you to greatness in Slytherin, Harry. Had you used your will to join forces with those from Slytherin, you would be rising to greatness as we speak, for I would be taking you with me in my rise to greatness now. Thinkof what we could accomplish together..." Voldemort sighed wistfully before continuing.

"We stole the will idea from the dementors, actually. Even though it's something that they're endowed with through no fault of their own, they have the ability to take a person's will from them. You already know how well that works, in daily life and in battle. And now that we have perfected the means to procure a person's will, we can take it from anyone when they're least expecting it. It's taken some mistakes and miscalculations along the way. Some of those who are currently in St. Mungo's are results of some of our-er, experiments- with the new spell. But we believe we have now made taking a person's will somewhat foolproof."

"So good for you and all of your evil little Death Eaters," Harry said sarcastically. "You've taken something evil and made it foolproof and even more evil-you should be very proud."

"Oh, actually I am, Harry," Voldemort agreed. "But there's one very important reason I want _your _will, Harry."

"Oh, I'm dying to find out," Harry said sullenly.

"Yes, in the end you may have to. But actually, you need not die at all. If you give me your will freely, I can let you live. Of course, you would need to live with me to keep you from hurting yourself-there are still a few side effects we haven't yet managed to counter. But once you've given your will to me, I would be glad to keep you on as a servant-and a perfect one you would be, too. A servant without a will is an excellent servant indeed. Do you know what started us on our little crusade for wills, Harry? This one thought: _'If you possess the will of your enemy, the battle is already won.' _So, you see, to continue to resist is futile. We_ will_prevail."

"You can't take people's wills. They won't let you," Harry said defiantly. "That's the reason they exist."

"Oh, but we can," Voldemort assured. "You can't protect yourself all the time, Harry. You can't be watchful and vigilant at every moment in your life. There will be that one moment where you let down your guard, then we will have you-or anyone else we want, for that matter. I've worked especially hard to get to your will, Harry, because _you_are my prize. I can hold you up to the entire wizarding world as the one who saw reason in turning your will over to me. That I have taken the great Harry Potter's will shall alone show my greatness and send the people of the world cowering before me."

"But you've made a big mistake, Voldemort-you've badly overestimated my will to live," Harry said matter-of-factly. "You've already killed my parents, now some of the only family who ever cared about me, and my two best friends. Then you tell me I'd have to live with you. Who in their right mind would want to live at all?"

_But there's the world, Harry-_ that little voice inside told him._ All of those people-they're depending on you. _He never understood why he was destined to be a great wizard, much less the great wizard who was fated to save the entire wizarding world. The weight of it was daunting.

Voldemort had paused at Harry's question, then turned momentarily to release Wormtail from his agony.

Harry glanced away for a moment toward the Portkey site and-

The thought hit Harry far harder than a Bludger to the stomach ever had. Not only had he lost Ron when he was thrown from the cliff's edge, Harry's only possible means of escape had gone with him. The Portkey had been in Ron's pocket. It wasn't that he'd really thought he would survive the battle with Voldemort anyway, but now he had only one real hope left. If he wasn't going to survive this and escape, then neither was Voldemort.

Although he knew there was nothing in his stomach, the intensity of the pain from his scar and from the burns on his arm, and the idea of what Voldemort was describing caused him to gag nearly in the Dark Lord's face. It gave him an idea. Harry tried to remember the feeling of the Golden Snitch as it fluttered in his mouth during his first-ever Quidditch game. He remembered the Snitch tickling at the back of his throat, then he grabbed at his middle and leaned over, pretending to retch.

_Ha! It's working! _

Voldemort, startled as he turned back to face Harry, automatically took two steps back. He was careful not to take his eyes from the boy, but was apparently reluctant to wear the vomit of his sworn enemy as well.

All Harry had to do now was take three quick steps and lean over farther...reaching... reaching ... yes! The wand was in his hand, in spite of the searing pain the blisters in his arm were causing him. Whipping the wand up before his face, Harry then pointed it at Voldemort, only to discover that Voldemort was ready for him as well.

_"Expelliarmus!"_Voldemort tried once more.

But Harry was expecting that one the second time. He held on tight to his wand in spite of the pain it caused and the wand's struggle to set itself free. _"Stupefy!" _Harry shot at the evil wizard, hoping it would give him a moment to think of what to do next.

But Voldemort darted quickly to the left and the spell missed its target.

Harry's mind was beginning to clear since all of the dementors were now gone. Ron had even done that for him-unwittingly, true-but nevertheless, even in defeat, Ron had done all that he could to help Harry survive and win the battle.

_"Serpensortia Quinentus!" _Voldemort bellowed, pointing the wand to Harry's side.

Not one, but five cobras slid from the end of Voldemort's wand, landing scattered in a semi-circle around the surprised Harry. They moved independently, but all of them were already agitated. Their flanges spread in warning, the snakes bobbed and weaved, apparently trying to focus on what part of Harry's body to attack first. The hissing, spitting sounds of Parseltongue escaped the Dark Lord's lips as he tried to incite them to strike.

Harry could not catch all that was said-he just tried to stand very still and make sure the snakes didn't feel threatened by him. He tried to speak to them in very soothing tones of Parseltongue, hoping that the snake-words escaping his mouth would calm them. Still, the snakes kept moving closer to him, sidling up to him with their posturing and threats until they were so close that one slight move in any direction would cause a strike simply from Harry stepping on them. He couldn't afford to be bitten and pulled into some poison-induced trance before ridding the world of Voldemort for good.

"Your Parseltongue is quite good, Harry, though you've hardly had the years of practice I have," Voldemort said to him in the eerie sounding snake-language. "It was kind of me to pass the language on to you at all, eh?"

"As if you had a choice," Harry replied sullenly, still holding his wand at the ready.

Attempting to think of any advantage that remained at his disposal, Harry realized that Voldemort didn't want him dead-yet. On the other hand, Harry saw no way out and was willing to die if he could take Voldemort, too. As reluctant as Harry was to use it, that meant there was only one thing left to do...

Terrified screaming broke into Harry's concentration as Valeria came to full consciousness. Pettigrew, still recovering from the Cruciatus Curse, haltingly and painfully hovered over her as she struggled to stand.

Valeria suddenly squirmed sideways at the sight of the snakes surrounding Harry. Looking frantically around, most likely for Nagini, she stopped her shrieking and slowed her movements when she did not see the enormous snake. Her face took on a look of bewilderment at the circumstances surrounding her.

Harry could only imagine what was going on in her mind, but he had other things to concentrate on. The time had come. Knowing that he was making a decision of sound mind since the dementors were now gone, he decided it was the wizarding world's only way out.

Harry took a deep breath and pointed his wand.

"_Avada Ke-"_

"Finite Incantato!"

Harry felt his throat seize up as Voldemort stopped the Unforgivable Curse from being completed. He told himself he wasn't done yet -he'd have to do it faster this time-point and fire! But before he could get it out of his mouth he heard:

_"Accio Inclinatio!" _The green sparks blazed toward him as he stared into the tip of the Dark Lord's wand.  
_  
_Something suddenly disoriented Harry for a moment. Slowly a small opalescent white cloud surrounded by deep blue sparks emerged from him, floating out in front of his body and toward the Dark Lord. His mind racing to decide what to do, Harry found that the farther the cloud moved, the less he cared what would happen with it.

_My will! It must be my will!_

"Immobulus!"

Harry knew he couldn't finish the incantation in time to completely end Voldemort's spell, but he could halt it in mid-stream. His own spell blocked his will from floating any farther away, but then his wand hand, still held rigid for the spell, began to feel something he hoped he'd never feel again.

Like some nightmarish case of déja vu, Harry felt his wand lock with its brother, Voldemort's wand, vibrating and starting to become hot at once. They had been here before, Harry and Voldemort - less than a year before, in the graveyard in Little Hangleton: wands locked, eyes locked, wills locked in battle. Only this time, Harry's will was on the line as it floated between them. It had been Harry's life that was in jeopardy the last time they'd met, but this time, the prospect of a will-less life with Voldemort was so much worse.

Harry wondered if they would be lifted up as they had been in Little Hangleton, but this time the two wizards stayed grounded. The spell had not been completed-the two of them were in limbo, with nothing but their own inner strength to win their battle for them. Harry desperately reached out, checking to see if he could still use his will, even if it had been removed from his body. It seemed to work all right-he was still very determined to get it back and overcome Voldemort- but it certainly took more energy to use it from here.

"Very clever, Harry," Voldemort said, concentrating on pulling the cloud towards him while still managing to keep the Orb spinning. "But surely you don't think I'd let you win twice."

"We'll have to see about that, won't we?" Harry replied, trying to sound much bolder than he felt.

"Fine, then," Voldemort said. "I know how much harder it is to use your will outside of your body. You'll tire soon, and I'm a patient wizard, Harry. You already know that. I'll wait." Voldemort adjusted his stance, as if he was settling in for a good long time.

Harry started to do the same, but a sudden warning hiss reminded him that he wouldn't be moving at all, not even an inch. The snakes were still bobbing and weaving close around him, though they had calmed somewhat once Voldemort had stopped mumbling his incessant Parseltongue.

It had been several minutes when Harry felt himself start to tire. This whole thing reminded him of a bizarre arm-wrestling tournament he'd seen once from the hallway on Dudley's TV. He glanced at the opalescent cloud in front of him and sensed it moving farther from him. One look at Voldemort told him it was true-the Dark Lord was beginning to smile evilly- and Voldemort's strength was beginning to overcome his own.

Harry reached out, irritated that he was letting Voldemort pull his will away. Before his will got so far from him that he would no longer care, Harry had to think of some way to stop him. He'd never managed it before, but perhaps after that time in the cottage...

Keeping his wand and his concentration strong on holding his will stationary, Harry then focused his thoughts elsewhere in his mind. He felt something building and forming, rolling itself into a larger and grander sphere of power. Harry felt the fingers of his free hand warming-he held his hand toward his shoulder to prepare, then flung his entire arm away from his body, fingers outstretched. From the center of his palm flew a Quaffle-sized fireball, deftly striking Voldemort in the shoulder.

Voldemort lost his concentration on Harry's will at the same he time lost his balance. While he struggled to regain both, plus the Orb Spell, the opalescent cloud drifted back toward its owner. But before it could be absorbed back into Harry's body, Voldemort used some of Harry's own medicine against him.

_"Immobulus!"_

Harry's will was suspended once more, no more than a decimeter from his chest.

Harry was pleased that he had technically gained some ground with his wandless spell. But now he had another problem. The fireball and Voldemort's flailing about had irritated the snakes again-and they were all still focused on him. Harry decided he wouldn't be able to try that again without inciting one of them to strike.

Soon Harry felt himself tiring again, plus the wandless fireball had tapped his energy, too. He felt himself slipping when -

_What was that?_

Something interrupted his train of thought momentarily. It felt oddly familiar, yet it was but a flicker-and it was just as quickly gone.

_My mind's still playing tricks from the dementor sickness..._Harry shook his head a bit to clear it, trying to concentrate on using as little energy as possible and still maintain his position.  
_  
_Again he heard it-but it _couldn't_be! He glanced once more at Voldemort to make certain the Dark Lord wasn't cruelly planting this feeling in his brain somehow. But Voldemort was still concentrating intensely on their standoff.

Something was happening in his mind; not since before Fred, George and Hermione had left for Hogwarts had Harry felt this optimistic. There was only one answer for this great feeling of relief and elation beginning to pour into him.

Engaged in what was most likely a suicidal duel with the most evil Dark Lord in centuries, one who had every intention of ripping out the very essence of his being, and surrounded by angry cobras that didn't seem the least bit impressed with his Parseltongue, Harry surprised even himself.

He smiled.

# # #

"Miss Granger!" Madam Pomfrey fussed. "You_ get_back into bed this instant! If you can't manage to calm yourself and stay put until I'm finished with Mr. Weasley, I'll be giving you a Sleeping Draught!"

Hermione let out a loud sigh of exasperation and threw herself back onto her bed in the hospital wing. The Doctors Granger were seated on chairs at their daughter's bedside, looking immensely relieved to have their daughter back, but at the same time recognizing Hermione's anguish and worry about her friends. Mrs. Granger covered her daughter's hand on the bed with her own, apparently trying to comfort the inconsolable Hermione as best she could.

Ginny broke away from her conversation with George, who seemed nearly as anxious as Hermione, and walked to Hermione's bedside.

"Are you all right?" Ginny asked.

Hermione shook her head impatiently. "Yes-no- I don't know! Where _are_they, Gin? Why haven't they come? They were supposed to be right behind us and it's been nearly two hours."

The arrival of the first Portkey group at Hogwarts hadn't created much of a stir-at least for their first five minutes there, which was how long it took everyone in the school to find out they had returned. Hermione, Fred, and George had come hurtling into view only a few feet above the Portkey site at the edge of the forest and it had been all that Dumbledore could do to slow them down enough to keep them from breaking bones on impact.

Though she would never know exactly how, Hermione knew that Dumbledore had somehow sensed that the group was on its way and was in trouble. He had gone to the Portkey site and worked with them at the end of their transport to even out the spell and allow them to arrive safely. The headmaster also had the foresight _not_to advise any of the families of the students' impending arrival because he had no idea what kind of condition they might arrive in-especially if the Transport Spell had gone awry. Hagrid had been asked by Dumbledore to stand by-just in case.

As soon as Dumbledore found that the three Portkey travelers had indeed arrived in one piece, he and Hagrid had whisked them up to the hospital wing as quickly as possible. They had burst into the main hospital room, Dumbledore shouting orders for Madam Pomfrey to lock the doors behind them and allow only family members in to see the students who had gone missing for four days now.

Three minutes later, the hospital wing was filled with tears, hugs and Weasleys.

Of course, the medical treatment priority had gone to Fred, as both George and Hermione had hoped for and expected. But neither George nor Hermione was very pleased with the fact that Dumbledore had restricted them to the hospital wing when they didn't feel that their minor cuts and scrapes should keep them from returning to the Portkey site with Dumbledore.

Once Dumbledore had convinced Hermione and George that they weren't going back with him, they had imparted to Dumbledore only the most pertinent information regarding Harry, Ron and Valeria. If the Portkey had worked as planned and the second group of travelers was somewhere in transport after fifteen minutes or so, Dumbledore needed to be at that Portkey site _right then,_and would have to catch up on other information later. After all, the second group was likely in much greater danger with their limited knowledge of the Transport Spell and with dementors on their heels.

Hermione and George both looked at each other, held up crossed fingers (Hermione had explained the significance of that while she and George were repairing Portkeys), and returned to their beds to catch up with their families. But both of them were too worried and upset to stay motionless for long; they kept jumping up to pace the floor and had to be reminded repeatedly to stay put.

The Weasley children surrounded George after all except Molly and Arthur had been chased away from Fred's bed. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stood at the foot of their son's bed, watching nervously as Madam Pomfrey performed spells to test the extent of Fred's injuries and the resulting conditions. The rest of the Weasleys sat quietly, casting furtive glances toward Fred and trying not to be too demanding with questions about the previous four days-at least not yet. In the air one could feel everyone making a difficult but undeniable effort _not_to ask questions about Ron and Harry.

After an hour or so, Dumbledore had rushed back in to ask a few more questions, then left as quickly as he had come. Ignoring George and Hermione's requests to join him once more, he tried to do what he could to ease their anxiety about where the second Portkey party was.

Another hour and Hermione was beginning to feel as if she would burst if she didn't hear something soon. _The Portkey-I must have done something wrong with the Portkey. What if it was a fatal error in the spell-what if the spell simply fell apart during their transport? What If Ron and Harry are...What if it was me who didn't do the spell correctly and they- _She'd had to stop herself at that point, telling herself that she simply didn't know-encouraging herself with the fact that they hadn't yet heard anything negative about the two boys. But she also realized _that_was very little to go on.

Just as she was finally managing to calm herself about the Portkey, the image of the dementors descending the hillside returned to haunt her mind, and she began a renewed round of worrying. She wondered if her best friends had been able to hold them off long enough to transport at all, or if something worse had come with the dementors this time. Again, she simply didn't know-and not knowing was eating her alive.

Hermione swung her head around to give a tight-lipped, appreciative smile to her parents. She knew they were doing all they could to understand the gravity of the situation and her causes for worry, but she also knew that the extent of their understanding in this field was limited. The Grangers were simply so relieved to have their daughter back that, even though they could feel for the Weasleys, it was hard for them not to feel happy and comforted. Hermione envied them that feeling, and was hoping she could share it just as soon as Harry and Ron came back. She squeezed her mother's hand.

Resigning herself to the fact that she was restricted to her bed for the near future, Hermione went to lay her head back on the pillow. She was nearly halfway down when she gasped loudly and bolted to a full upright position instantly.

*Ron? _Ron? Ron, is that __**you?***_

"Ron..." Hermione said softly under her breath. But it was loud enough for Ginny to hear.

Ginny's eyes widened as she stared into Hermione's face. She seemed to understand immediately what was going on, probably from her own experiences within the connection. "He's in your mind?"

Hermione nodded furiously to Ginny, her eyes filling rapidly with tears.

"Is he coming by Portkey right now?" Ginny asked urgently.

Hermione shook her head 'no', just a moment before she burst into tears.

"I'm going for Dumbledore," Ginny said tensely, and with that, she disappeared through the hospital wing door.

# # #

Bloody _hell!_ He heard strangling coughs and choking-who _was _that? They needed help! They were struggling to breathe and he wondered why he couldn't see them anywhere around him. Maybe they were at his side...

He laboriously opened his eyes, only to find that he couldn't move his head. It was trapped somehow, immobilized and tethered and-

_Gasp!-_He suddenly realized it had been some time since he'd taken a breath and he sucked in as much oxygen through his mouth as he could. But it was still pitifully meager. The coughing and choking continued and he realized it had been him all along, kicking and clawing from the depths of the blackness as he climbed his way to consciousness.

Ron rolled his eyes up toward the sky, then down past his shoes to the waves breaking and splashing on the rocks below. His feet were dangling loosely over thin air, his chest and right side hurt like hell, something pushed relentlessly at his Adam's apple, he couldn't breath- and he had no idea how he got here.

It took him a moment to realize that it was not only his feet dangling in mid-air, but the rest of him as well. Before him was an unblocked view of the ocean. He could not see behind him, but slowly reached back with his left hand to feel something rough and solid. As he started to reach with his right hand, he realized there was already something in it and to his surprise, it was his wand. Though he wasn't exactly gripping the wand, it was luckily stuck to the palm of his hand with the _Adhesivus_Spell.

Despite the blinding pain in his head, everything began to come back. _Adhesivus-_Harry and he had used that to safeguard and hide their wands. But why? ...Hiding them from Voldemort and Pettigrew! Now he remembered that far. But how did he get here?

Air-air was becoming a problem. Ron reached to his neck with his left hand to find the shirt he was wearing pulled up around his throat from the back. With a great effort, he pulled hard to wrench the material away from his throat enough to take a deep, gulping breath. _Ah, that helped-a little oxygen to the brain can do wonders...  
_  
Something snapped above his head and suddenly dropped him several inches, bouncing him in space for a moment. Panicked, he looked back down to the rocks below to see three formless black mounds there. _The dementors! That's right! _Like a Bludger to three oblivious Chasers in some evil game of Quidditch, he had been the ball that took them hurtling over the edge.

Ron reached above his head with his wand hand to touch the trunk of a scruffy little plant stuck through the inside of his shirt back. He was now aware enough to realize that the twig he now felt poking him behind his ear was part of the only thing keeping him from joining the dementors in their fate on the jagged rocks below. Crashing into the dementors as he went over the cliff must have deadened his momentum and pushed him back into the rock wall where the little plant had snagged him. But chances were, the plant had had enough trouble eking out a life in the cliffside without having to hold a sixteen-year-old boy aloft for very long.

Feeling for a handhold toward the root of the little plant (though his wand kept getting in the way) and holding the neck opening of his shirt away from his throat with the other hand, Ron gently kicked back with his heels and tried to find some way to dig them into the vertical face of the rocky cliff. Though it took a few minutes, he found two holds that were enough for him to push off and support a little of his own weight, at least enough to free his head a bit so he could look up and see how else to help himself.

Ron saw that he was dangling about fifteen feet from the top edge of the cliff. The little plant that was currently supporting him had grown from a shallow rock ledge about eight feet in length, but he could feel that the stem was already bent to its limit-and cracking. Somehow he had to get to that ledge.

He took a deep breath and held it since his air would be cut off completely for a minute or so as the shirt collar literally wrung his neck. With one swift move, he managed to swing his left side around and grab hold; a few minutes and several scrapes later, he heaved himself onto the twelve-inch deep ledge, gasping for air. Though he was far from being out of his predicament, he lay on his side and looked down at his chest, deeply inhaling the cool, sweet air and smiling in relief. He'd made it-he didn't fall to his death on the rocks below-at least not yet. What he'd found so ironic was that in his effort to help save Harry's life, it had been _Harry's_shirt that had saved his.

Hmmm-where _was_Harry...? Ron listened very carefully as he lay there. He could hear nothing aside from the constant roar and pounding of the waves on the rocks below. He was anxious to find out if Harry was all right, but he knew that if he didn't rest for a few minutes before trying to scale the rest of the cliff wall, he would very likely fall and be of no help to Harry at all.

If his diversion had worked, maybe Harry had already taken care of Voldemort. Perhaps he had used the Portkey to return to Hogwarts; because once Voldemort was gone there would be no Orb to stop him. He could just get the Portkey and-_wait a minute-_Ron reached his hand into his front jeans pocket and pulled out a very familiar piece of orange and white material.

"Oh no," Ron groaned. But looking at the Portkey piece only rekindled his anger and renewed his determination, in spite of the fact that he felt like he'd been run over twice by the Hogwarts Express.

Voldemort claimed he had killed the first Portkey group. But that picture-the one he'd shown Harry on the smokescreen...Ron closed his eyes and tried to re-form it in his mind-at least he'd had a chance to stare at it long enough to ingrain it in his memory. There was something there in the background-something on the right. It was fuzzy in his mind's eye, but as he thought about what it could be, he became more and more positive that his thought was correct.

That picture couldn't have been taken just before he killed Hermione, Fred, and George! Because Ron now realized what he thought was so strange-what he saw in the dark, fuzzy background- _it's us-Harry and me!_ Somehow the Dark Lord had gotten hold of an image from the cottage, when the five of them had been together. _Valeria was right-that cursed bloody-looking picture on the wall was charmed after all._

But Ron had to be sure. Since he couldn't yet physically help Harry, he decided to send his mind in search of Hermione. Yet he had to take a deep breath and rally his courage first. Ron was more terrified of finding out the truth about her than he had ever been of anything in his life. The dullness he'd felt before had been caused by the dementor sickness. But now, it was his own emotions he had to face-and if he found that the worst had happened...

Determined not to think about that, he withdrew into his mind and felt himself searching, reaching, having to push diligently through some barrier as if pushing his body through a wall of wet clay.

Bloody hell-the Orb Spell _was _still up! But Ron had managed to reach Ginny all the way at Hogwarts with it still functioning-he'd be damned if he was going to stop when the one he was searching for held his best reason for living deep in her heart. Though shoving his way through the Orb Spell was all but impossible, he finally burst through on the other side, only to find that his destination was easy to reach.

He was almost afraid to think her name-he found he had to take a deep breath and close his eyes before he could do so.

_*Hermione?*_

At once, a huge wave of relief and euphoria washed over his mind, but it wasn't from his end of the connection.

*Ron? _Ron? Ron, is that __**you?***_

At her words, Ron let out a sigh of relief so great that a sharp pain shot through his tender ribs.  
_  
_"Thank you, thank you, thank you..." Ron whispered to himself as he lay on the ledge. But in his mind he was shouting to himself._Thank the heavens and the gods and the heirs of any kind of goodness in the entire world! Hermione, you're ALIVE!_

*Gods, it's so good to hear your voice!* Ron thought to her. *The connection's pretty weak and hard to hold onto-but I had to know. Are you all right?*

*I thought I did something wrong with your Portkey...and then you and Harry would be...or-or I thought the dementors attacked you and then...is Harry with you?... oh...Ron... you're still alive...*

Had she been there with him on the little ledge, he imagined that the shaking from her deep sobs of relief would have surely knocked them both from it. Her emotions were so strong just now that he could feel them overcoming her attempt to answer him, no matter how hard she was trying. He lay there silently for a few moments, not moving, not thinking, just feeling the warmth of her thoughts and the sense of her in his mind heal his soul as only she could.

Ron thought he'd lost the connection because she had paused so long before she could edge her way toward a coherent thought.

*Yes, we made it,* Hermione continued, finally able to pull herself together. *We're all right-all of us. The Portkey transport was terrible, but Dumbledore helped when we got closer. How he found out we were on our way, I'll never know, but they're treating Fred and we're all safe. Where are you? What happened with the Portkey-and the dementors? Is Harry all right?*

*It's not over yet,* Ron thought to her. *At least, it wasn't. I can't explain it all right now, but I can't see Harry yet. Voldemort blew me over the cliff with a spell-*

*Voldemort? Voldemort came? With just you and Harry there?* Hermione questioned, the panic rising in her voice. *And he sent you_ where?*  
_  
*Well-just Harry was left with him at the end. And he_ was_fighting him when I was, erm, blasted away...* Ron realized he needed to get to Harry soon, no matter how awful he felt . *In a minute I'm going to climb the cliff to see what's happened. But Voldemort-he told Harry you were dead-and that he killed Fred and George, too. I had to know...*

*Voldemort's completely despicable. We never saw or heard anything from him,* Hermione thought. *Even if we did have to use the destroyed Portkey his stupid rat chewed up.*

*I'll let you know what I find out, but I'd better get off and see what Harry's up to.*

*It sounds like you're cutting off the connection.*

*Well, it's hard to hang onto and I don't know if I-*

*You can't climb and stay connected, too?*

Ron noticed that Hermione was getting that determined sort of tone even in her thoughts. *I don't know-it's not something I ever tried before.*

*All right then. If I lose you, I'll know why. But until then-I'm going with you.*

Ron sighed. Hundreds of miles and a magical barrier between them made no difference-she was still Hermione. Good thing he loved her that way.

*I don't know if you want to know what happens through me in case-*

*Ron! I'm going!*

There was no use arguing-he was too tired and it felt too good to have her with him for him to fight it any longer.

*Be careful,* she pleaded to him, changing moods at once.

The climb to the edge of the cliff was grueling and horribly slow, even if there wasn't much distance to cover. His fingertips were bleeding and raw from clawing his way into the tiny handholds in the rock wall; his legs and feet cramped painfully from supporting his weight and holding himself on the wall with his toes.

Ron cautiously peered over the edge at the top, pulling himself up on his elbows and making one final push before rolling himself to hide behind a knee-high bank of grass not far from Valeria. Luckily, Pettigrew had his back turned. Ron looked toward the cottage to see Voldemort and Harry still facing off.

The good news was that Harry was alive, his wand in his hand; he looked even more aware and determined than he had earlier without the dementors to hinder him. The bad news was that it looked as if something dreadful had happened to Harry's arm, and he was surrounded by five very irritated cobras. Suspended between Harry and the Dark Lord was some kind of sparkling blue-white cloud; though Ron had no idea what it was, he knew it was important if it was being fought over by these two.

*Okay, I'm at the top,* Ron thought to Hermione in response to her frequent questions about Harry's welfare before Ron could even see him. *They're still dueling. Harry looks-* he decided not to worry her more than necessary *-tired, but okay so far.*

*You're telling me the truth, aren't you?* Hermione asked.

_Wouldn't you know she'd ask me that?_ *Erm, the connection's getting worse, Hermione, probably because I'm closer to the Orb. Can't hear you very well. I'm going to try and connect with Harry.* _Please let her buy that excuse...  
_  
There was certainly an emotional trail for Ron to follow to reach his best friend.

*Harry?* he thought to his best friend.

There was no response except the confusion and terrible tension he could feel in Harry's mind.

*Harry!*

Still no response.

*Hey, Harry-you're not planning on beating up on this guy without me, are you?* Ron thought. * You know what? That bloke is such a bloody liar! Claims he killed the twins and Hermione. Ha! I should set Hermione loose on him for that; she's right here in the connection with me. But they're all safe at Hogwarts, no problem.* It took a lot of energy for Ron to rally any kind of good thought from beyond the depths of his exhaustion and pain, but he could tell Harry was in dire need of some good news.

*About time you showed up, Weasley!* Harry acted as if he'd wanted to think more to Ron, but Ron could tell from the feelings of relief coming his way that they were all Harry could muster and still give attention to his own predicament.

Squinting through the grass and across the clearing, Ron would have almost sworn he saw Harry smile.

*You're smiling, Harry? Dueling with bloody Voldemort and you're _smiling?_* Ron knew precisely why Harry was smiling-in spite of it all, he was grinning, too. *I reckon you've gone mental on me, mate-absolutely barking mad.*

Maybe things were looking up after all.


	29. There's Bloody Well Got to Be a Way

**~ Chapter 29~  
...There's Bloody Well Got to Be a Way**

*What is that, Harry? That white and blue thing?* Ron asked his best friend through the connection. He peered intently through the bank of tall grass at Voldemort and Harry, who were engaged in a standoff behind the cottage. Even though his only true fear was spiders, Ron shuddered at the sight of Harry surrounded by five furious cobras-and Voldemort.

*My will,* Harry answered. It was a moment before he could continue. *You know, that part of a person that gives them the determination to do what they do. He wants mine so that I don't want to fight him anymore.*

*Your _will?_ He can_ do_that? Bloody hell! Keep fighting him, Harry! Don't you give in to that bastard!* Ron pleaded. *I'm going to take care of Pettigrew, then I'm coming to help.*

*No, stay where you are,* Harry said. *I can do this-if I know you and everyone else is alive and safe. I have to concentrate, but I can do this. At least I think I can-*

Ron had felt the rush of power that had filled Harry's mind once he'd found out that Ron and the Portkey group were all right; once more he was amazed at the magical strength his best friend held.

*Ron, what's going on? Did you find Harry's mind?* Hermione asked anxiously.

*Yes, but-Voldemort's got his will out of his body and Harry's trying to get it back.*  
Ron could hear a hum of activity in his mind. He wasn't sure if it had to do with the weak connection or if there was suddenly a lot of chatter on Hermione's side at Hogwarts.

*I've got Dumbledore here with me now, Ron,* Hermione said. *He can't do anything himself to help with the Orb Spell still up. He tried to get to you once we told him where you were and it wouldn't work, but he'll try and help you and Harry with what to do if he can. Sirius and Moody are in Ireland-they're on their way to you, but we don't know how long they'll be. There was no way to contact them through the Orb Spell with your location so they're just doing the best they can to track you.* There was a pause at the other end. *Voldemort has Harry's _what _outside of his body?*

*I know it sounds crazy-it's his will.*

But unfortunately, it was apparent that Voldemort had noticed Harry's few moments of distraction as well. His eyes began darting to the side, trying to see if anything was amiss.

"Wormtail! _Wormtail!" _the Dark Lord screeched. "Something's changed here-I can feel it-find it!"

Wormtail started to look around fearfully as well, but Ron was too quick for him. Unbeknownst to Voldemort, Ron had already sneaked up on Wormtail from behind, muttered,_ ""Petrificus Totalus!" _and watched the round little man fall stiffly to the ground.

"Stiff as a drowned rat, eh, Pettigrew?" Ron couldn't help but whisper. "But-thanks."

Ron moved to kneel down by Valeria. She was chewing her fingers in fright, but remained sitting in one place on the ground. "It's okay," he whispered, "we'll get you out of here-Harry's working on it, and so am I."

Ron's attempt to comfort Valeria seemed to help him feel better, too. He stood and took several steps toward Voldemort since the evil wizard wasn't yet looking his way.

_"Wormtail!" _Voldemort roared and, taking his eyes from Harry for the first time since their standoff began, swung his head to fix his icy glare on Ron. "You! Returned from the dead, eh? And I thought I gave you the easy way out-not this time! _CRUCIO!"_

By the time the words of the Dark Lord had finished ringing in his ears, Ron saw the wand tip pointed directly at his own chest. For the second time that day, the wrath of Voldemort took its toll.

Ron's body contorted and seized at the incredible pain that hit him. He dropped to the ground on one knee, still determined to fight it off and go to help Harry. He kept telling himself this couldn't be much worse than standing on his broken leg to fight Sirius in the Shrieking Shack-but it was- much worse. Every nerve in his body was on fire and ready to explode-he felt certain-and his body could deal with nothing else. Finally twisting to fall twitching to the ground, Ron tried to keep from screaming. But there was no hope of that- he'd lost control of his body the moment the curse took effect.

"Ron!" Harry yelled in panic for the second time that day.

*Ron! What happened?* Hermione's voice echoed weakly through his mind.

Ron had trouble getting the point across through the waves of pain, but he knew Harry couldn't afford the distraction. *No, Harry!-Don't think-of me! That's what-he wants!*

*Then don't you be stupid and die on me again,* Harry responded, still keeping his focus leveled on his will and Voldemort.

*No-problem,* Ron could only eke out a word or two at a time before the pain assailed his senses again. *Once-a day's-my limit. Harry?*

*Yeah?*

_*Kick his -bloody, evil, ever-cursed -arse!*_

Ron was never certain if what he saw next was from a pain-induced delirium or if it actually happened. As his body rolled involuntarily from side to side to try and reduce the pain in any way he could, what little coherent thought he could manage told him that his eyes were witnessing something quite amazing.

Harry determinedly turned his full attention on Voldemort, holding his wand with both hands now, laboriously moving and twisting it in attempting to throw off Voldemort's guard. His wand appeared to be shaking, as was the Dark Lord's, but Voldemort still managed to maintain the Orb Spell as well to make sure that his charge was effectively trapped.

Not that Harry appeared interested in going anywhere right now. Little by little, Harry's will moved closer to him. Beads of sweat coursed down his face, mixing with the black spikes of hair that hung before his determined green eyes. The sparkling cloud finally crossed the barrier into Harry's body and disappeared for a moment. Suddenly, it looked as if Harry had been punched in the chest by something and he gasped, but then he exhaled, took another deep breath, and gave a victorious little sigh of relief. Harry's will was his own once again.

And he looked more determined than ever to use it. Breathing hard, Harry adjusted the handholds on his wand, still using both hands to point the powerful weapon at Voldemort. Ron couldn't remember Harry ever looking more sure of himself.

"It's back with me now, Voldemort," Harry said with thinly-veiled hatred in his voice. "Nice try- but you won't _ever _get the chance again."

Staring straight into the painful depths of the Dark Lord's eyes, Harry boldly and self-assuredly starting speaking loudly in Parseltongue. Ron could have sworn he saw a moment of doubt in Voldemort's expression as he stared at the level of intensity in Harry's face. Harry must have registered it, too, because it gave him the courage to look away from Voldemort for a few moments and stare into the eyes of each of the cobras in turn, continuing to speak to them confidently. When he was done, Harry's gaze returned to the Dark Lord.

As if suddenly called by the song of a single snake charmer, the cobras switched their focus from Harry and turned their bodies in unison to face the Dark Lord. The snakes slithered forward, making the first movement from their positions since their arrival. But the serpents now all seemed of like mind-and their one goal was Voldemort.

The first snake to reach Voldemort swung its head excitedly. Whatever Voldemort yelled in Parseltongue seemed meaningless compared to whatever Harry's sweet words had been. The cobra swung its head once more to the side, arched and struck, sinking its venomous fangs deep into Voldemort's Achilles tendon.

The Dark Lord cried out and hissed in pain, kicking at the snakes with his wounded leg; it only served to enrage them further. A dark bloody patch appeared and spread on the Dark Lord's clothing as it hung below the level of his robes.

Harry looked rather self-satisfied. "One problem with having a body back, Voldemort. Now you bleed like the rest of us mortals."

Ron was wracked with another wave of pain and he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. He was beginning to understand how people were driven mad through the Cruciatus Curse, and was worried he was not far from that, if death didn't claim him first. It seemed like Harry was winning the battle before his eyes, assuming his eyes were seeing right. Perhaps Harry would make it after all, even if he didn't. Ron couldn't keep from yelling again with this round of pain.

*Ron-what was that? Was that _you?* _Hermione thought to him. *I heard it-what's going on? Ron?*

_Damn it, Hermione. You won't let me protect you from anything-even when there's nothing you can do to help. No use lying now. _*Cruci-atus.*

Ron felt a shudder in her mind. *Oh my god- Harry, too?*

*Right now, Harry's- got the upper-hand. But- they're still at it.*

*What can I do, Ron? I have to do something. Tell me!*

*I-don't know.*

Ron felt something graze his hand; it was the hem of Harry's jeans. Somehow Harry had managed to get away from Voldemort and the snakes; he had crossed the clearing.

Ron angled his head to see what had happened. Voldemort had been backed up against the wall of the cottage by the serpents. The Orb was still spinning and he held his wand in front of him, as yet unwilling to give up on Harry and let down his guard. But the five cobras alternately struck at his legs and blood had soaked the clothing under the Dark Lord's robes.

Harry knelt down beside Ron, who could feel the warmth of his best friend's hand on his arm; but thankfully, Harry kept his attention on Voldemort. "Ron, keep pushing it away. I can't reverse the curse on you and hold him off or I would. Try and find a place in your mind where it doesn't hurt as much. I'll get you out as soon as I can, but you've got to hold on."

*Ron? Are you all right? Can you hear me?* Hermione demanded somewhere in his mind.

*Harry's here-to help,* Ron tried to think back. He hoped the strength of his mind outweighed the strength of his body at the moment.

Suddenly, Harry's wand hand snapped back sharply as Voldemort released the spell. "Reckon he decided the snakes were worse than the chance of losing my will for the moment-he's broken the Inclinatio Spell. Hold tight, Ron. _Invertare Incantato!~ Crucio!" _Harry pointed his wand at Ron, but nothing happened to ease the spell.

Harry looked puzzled. _"Finite Incantatem!" _Again nothing happened with the curse. "He's made the spells irreversible somehow-I can't do anything with them."

* 'S okay, Harry-keep fighting,* Ron thought back to him.

*Could Harry do anything at all, Ron?* Hermione thought to him.

*No-didn't work.*

*You have to listen to me, Ron,* Hermione reasoned. *We can't help Harry right now. Valeria can't help get you out of there. You're the only one who can help either of them and we have an idea. You're going to have to send me some of your pain to clear your mind. You need to think-there's got to be some other way out, or you have to hold on until Sirius and Moody get there. Have you seen anything-odd-anywhere- that could be their doing?*

*Not a-sign,* Ron answered.

*All right, then. Do it now, Ron. Send me some of your pain.*

*No.*

*It's okay-we'll worry about it when it gets here. Dumbledore can help me when it comes, to diminish the pain some.*

*No, Hermione. I'm-not doing that-to you.*

*Ron, this is not the time to be stubborn! This is your life we're talking about here! And if you don't care about yours, care about Harry's and Valeria's. You promised you'd protect them both, didn't you?*

_Why does she always have to be __**right?  
**_  
*Bloody hell-Hermione, I hate-doing this,* Ron said. *Damn it-I'm-sorry.*

Ron wasn't even sure if he _could_'do this', but he concentrated on channeling some of the pain through the connection and suddenly, some of the weight of it left his mind. His body was still unable to move much, but his mind felt freed enough to think more clearly.

*Once something is your fault...* Hermione started to respond, then gasped as her body filled and tensed with the pain *..._then_you can apologize.*

*You-all right?* Ron asked anxiously. _Bloody hell, I don't know which hurts worse-the Cruciatus, or knowing she's hurting because of me._

*I'm-okay,* she answered. *The first of it was the worst-Dumbledore's taken the edge off with a spell now. Wish I could share that with you.* Her words were sincere and helped Ron's leftover pain more than she could ever know.

*Okay,* Hermione said, more business-like now. *Dumbledore says you need to work on the Orb Spell so that you can use the Portkey. He doesn't know how you would do it, but he says you'll know if you follow your own path.*

*I don't know how to do that! * His thoughts flowed better now, but Ron wasn't even sure what had happened with the Orb Spell after the snakes had attacked Voldemort.

*Orb Spell?* Ron asked Harry, still trembling.

*Still up and running, I'm afraid. Do you still have the Portkey?*

*Right pocket-front.*

Harry started to reach for the Portkey, but just then they heard a loud bang. Voldemort had had to break his concentration on Harry to do it, but he had managed to banish the cobras.

Righting himself from being trapped against the wall, Voldemort regained his balance and re-focused his efforts on Harry. The Dark Lord looked as if he was trying to collect some dignity before crossing the clearing, then he strode purposefully to the spot where the three teenagers were grouped together.

"You're making this very difficult, Harry," Voldemort said. "I'll give you one more chance to make the right choice, otherwise..."

Harry stood straight again and stepped in front of where Ron writhed on the ground; Valeria sat fearfully behind them.

"End the Cruciatus Curse on Ron and maybe we can talk about it," Harry told him.

*Harry, no! -You can't!* Ron protested.

*I'm not planning on really giving my will to him-are you mad? But liars deserve to be lied to,* Harry thought back.

"I can't do that, Harry," Voldemort responded. "You see, I think it does you good to see what the Cruciatus Curse looks like on someone else, especially your little friend here." The Dark Lord took another step to move toward Pettigrew, who he'd finally spotted, fallen, on the far side of Ron and Valeria.

"Stay back!" Harry shouted, raising his wand threateningly. "Leave him!"

"Or what, Harry?" Voldemort asked menacingly, still moving slowly forward.

"I'm warning you, another step and I'll-"

"And you'll what...? I know you're bluffing." Voldemort took yet another step toward Pettigrew.

Ron could vaguely feel Harry's leg shaking against his shoulder as he lay quivering on the ground behind his friend.

"I'm sorry you think that," Harry snarled. Ron could hear a change in his friend's voice so that it carried a note of resigned, yet fierce determination._ "Avada Ked-"_

"Wait! Wait!" Voldemort cried, somehow suddenly looking fearful and small. "No...no... the venom is killing me anyway. You don't want to become a murderer like me, Harry! Your parents wouldn't want you to be a murderer!"

Voldemort's words appeared to hit Harry like a Bludger.

Ron was aware enough to notice and to realize that Voldemort was using everything he had left against Harry. But it was enough to make a confused and reluctant Harry lower his guard for a few seconds-and that was all that Voldemort needed.

Suddenly the Dark Lord straightened to his full height, triumphantly holding the spinning Orb in one hand and brandishing his wand in the other. A wide evil grin appeared on his face no more than two seconds before he whipped his wand up to point, yelling: _"CRUCIO!"_

Harry fell to his knees, a look of disgusted shock on his face. His eyes glazed over from the pain and he fell to the ground, lying in a shaking heap a few feet from Ron and Valeria.

Voldemort's evil laugh echoed down the cliffs once more. "Ha, you weak, gullible little boy! Snake's venom lost its power over me long, long ago. See what caring about others makes you do? It makes you fragile and vulnerable. I knew you'd be just as stupid as that simpering father and mother of yours!"

Suddenly the Dark Lord quieted. "Hmmm. Well, Harry, you've had your chance. Who wants to die first? The Cruciatus Curse will drive you mad in another few minutes anyway. But I'd love to transport you back to Hogwarts just a little bit-dead...I'm thinking maybe it's Mr. Weasley whose time is up. Just that added touch of drama for you to watch your best friend die again, Harry. Well, you two boys think about death while I take care of Wormtail here. No matter how much of a fool he's been today, and how much he's going to pay for it, I can't let him miss_ this_."

Voldemort checked on Valeria, apparently to see if there was any chance of her running. But since she still sat trembling and chewing her fingers aimlessly, he didn't seem especially concerned.

Glancing toward his best friend's face some six feet away, Ron could see that Harry's expression was dulled with the pain, but behind it was sadness.

*It's not your fault, Harry,* Ron thought to him. *It never has been. You never asked- to be the one- to save the world.*

Harry looked into his friend's eyes then, but the sadness remained. It was difficult to think to one another with the pain so intense, but there was no way to be certain this wasn't their last conversation, so they kept trying. *Then I reckon-the world didn't realize-all it got was- me.*

*Harry-you were wicked awesome!-You almost did it!*

*It's the 'almost' I -have a problem with,* Harry thought dejectedly.

Ron could scarcely think any more at all, especially with feeling Harry's pain re-doubled onto his own. There just wasn't enough room in his mind to send any more to Hermione-and he didn't want her to know how much pain they were both in anyway.

Beginning to feel as if death might be a peaceful, welcome relief, Ron knew he had to talk to Hermione just once more. Using every ounce of strength that remained, Ron pushed his mind through the interference from being this close to the Orb, and through the pain wreaking havoc on his own body.

*Hermione?*

*Ron-I thought I lost the connection-it's really weak-* she thought back to him. *What is it, Ron? Something more is wrong-I can feel it. What's going on now?*

*It's-nothing,* Ron thought. He had strengthened the connection with her for one reason alone, and it wasn't to have her worry about him. He was going to have to try and sound as normal as possible and prayed that he'd be able to do it. But he could already feel her fighting the urge to cry-she knew him too well.

*Don't shut me out, Ron-please?*

In his mind, he sighed in defeat. *It's Harry now, too,* Ron admitted.

*No, no, no...* he heard her wail. But she wouldn't let herself give up-he could feel it; she worked hard to pull herself together. *Okay, we're getting you out of this. That's all there is to it. Where's Voldemort now?*

*Talking to-Pettigrew. There's nothing left-I can do.*

Ron paused to let another wave of pain pass. His nerves had begun to feel as if his entire body was one enormous open wound, and someone was meticulously rubbing acid into every inch of him. His breathing was becoming more rapid and shallow and he was skipping a breath completely here and there. He couldn't hold on much longer.

If this was one of the last things he would ever say to Hermione, he wanted it to be something for her. It had to be something she would remember of him when she was old and married and had children who were brilliant and wonderful just like she was. He wanted her to remember him the way they woke up this very morning: warm and comfortable, touching and connected-he wanted her to feel how much he cared.

He hadn't been able to say it before, no matter how true it had been. But this was probably the last chance he was ever going to get. It was now-or never.

*I think-I mean, I know-I- love you, Hermione,* he thought to her quietly but intensely. *You're the only one I ever loved like that-that's why I didn't know. But I know now.*

Ron heard a strange, strangled noise from Voldemort, who was somewhere near his feet, but he ignored it. His last moments alive were going to be focused on Hermione.

From her end, he heard a gasp, and then an unintelligible little sound escaped her-but there was no doubt it meant something good. He could tell her feelings were a strange mix of elation and dread. Then she turned on him.

*No, Ron,* she said fiercely.

*No?* _Just 'no'? What the hell does she mean by __**that?**_

*No!* she insisted. *You're _not_ going to tell me something like that and then go and die on me. You're _not! _You _give _me some more of that pain and you _think _of something!*

Ron was bewildered. _Women._ *Like _what?*_

*Like-I don't know-_you're_the telempath!*

Ron sighed once more. _No one would believe-our last moments together in time-and we're going to go out fighting...  
_  
*Hermione, you know I can't think when you're yelling at me!*

Hermione seemed to see some sense in that and quieted.

Ron worked hard to ignore his pain long enough to feel what she was feeling. In her heart and mind, he could feel her sorrow at losing her two best friends, her frustration at being unable to help, her anger at him for sounding like he was giving up.

He_ wanted_ to think of something brilliant to save them all-he _wanted_to spend what might be his last moments of life finding some solution to their horrible problem, or at least die trying. But he was actually beginning to feel rather cheated. What he craved to feel in his last moments of life was just -her.

*Try not to feel the bad stuff, Hermione, because I can feel it, too-in you. Just feel, you know, us.*

*Oh, all right then!* she thought to him, still a little piqued. *Take this!*

Luckily the adrenaline must have still been pumping in her veins, because she threw as much determination into making him feel her love for him as she had into her anger. Surprisingly, her feelings pouring into him were doing some strange things to the curse that was wracking his body. He didn't know if love could force a situation of mind over matter, but it was smothering some of the pain and bringing him back to his senses.

It was enough that he could open his eyes in time to see a tall figure in olive green robes stand and turn towards him, staring in shocked amazement at the glittering Orb spinning above his hand. Pettigrew appeared at the Dark Lord's elbow, timidly peeking around his tall form at the three teenagers, then at the Orb.

Ron himself squinted in confusion at the Orb. Something had happened to it. It was still spinning, if a bit more slowly and unevenly than before. It was still sparkling, but it had a new light coming from_ within_it-no, two lights-two tiny pinholes with laser-like beams that shot from the center of the Orb and spun as it did. One of the tiny, brightly- colored beams suddenly coursed its way across Voldemort's face, leaving a precisely cut, fine, bloody trail in its wake.

"What is_ this?"_Voldemort bellowed, still staring at the Orb, then grabbing at his face where the beam had left its clean cut. Voldemort wiped his hand across his face, then stared at the blood smearing his fingers in horror. "What is the meaning of this?"

Enough pain had left Ron from feeling the radiance of Hermione's love that he even managed to try and think a moment, wondering if somehow his improvement within the curse and the problem with the Orb were in any way related. But no-how could they be? Something must have just gone wrong with the magic of the Orb Spell, and the love between he and Hermione had nothing to do with magic, so how could-

_Great gods of Gryffindor-could that be __**it? **_Could it be that he and Hermione sharing their feelings was breaking down the Orb Spell? It had been just seconds since both had happened, but that had to be just coincidence-didn't it? Ron moved into a position where he could lift his head, if only a little, to have a clear view of Voldemort's hands and face.

*Hermione, remember when I- made the window for you in the cottage loft? You knew why I did that, right?*

Hermione was still fighting the frustration and despair now, but her sadness was beginning to take over her will to fight. He could feel her losing her battle against her tears, but he wanted to keep her focused on the good feelings-especially if his cockeyed theory somehow turned out to be right...

*You knew I'd feel better with it there. I knew you made it especially for me because of how you...erm...felt...* Hermione answered slowly, curiosity in the tone of her thoughts.

Peering into the face of the Dark Lord, Ron watched the red serpentine eyes widen in horror as her words in his head and the feeling it gave the two of them seemed to coincide with another beam of light bursting from within the Orb.

That was it! _Of COURSE! Emotion is more powerful than magic! The Orb's just a magical spell-it can't hold a candle to love! We've punched a hole in the Orb! And if we can punch a lot of them, we might be able to use the Portkey after all..._

*Hermione-* Ron could feel himself breathing faster as his battered body tried to keep up with the energy building in his mind. *You'll never believe what's happening. _I'm_not destroying the Orb- I think WE are. You and I-with what we feel for each other. I reckon what we feel is so much stronger than the Orb's magic that we're making these holes appear- the Spell's breaking down- *

Ron could feel the confusion in Hermione's mind. But she seemed to be feeling a bit of his optimism as well. She wasn't crying any more, only sniffling, and for once, was willing to listen to him without question. *Are you sure? Can just our emotions do that? So if I say how I feel-*

*And if you mean it-* Ron cut in.

*Do I ever say anything I don't mean, Ron?* Hermione said. *I tried to tell you before-last night-but- I love you, too, Ron. I thought I could tell how you felt after the Yule Ball last year. I even felt it while we were yelling, no matter how stupid that sounds. It was like it was there under the surface the whole time, but you just couldn't get it to come out.*

In spite of all they'd been through with that, Ron felt he could admit it now. *Yeah, I was-stupid. But you're right-now I know it was there even then.*

Voldemort stared down at the two boys as they lay still prone on the ground, staring at the sky, making no noise, making no movements aside from the shaking within the Cruciatus. He appeared to be completely baffled. He had no idea how the beams kept appearing in the Orb, but there were more coming all the time. Two more beams appeared in the Orb and sliced their way into Voldemort's neck, making deep cuts that immediately oozed blood.

Wormtail stared in horror at the deep cuts the Orb lights had made in Voldemort's face and neck. More were appearing as the Dark Lord ducked and moved, trying to figure out how to maintain the spell, but trying to avoid the light beams as well. With terror in his eyes and before being cut himself, Pettigrew fled toward the cottage.

*That's it, Hermione-it's working!* Ron yelled to her mind triumphantly. *More! More! Help me think!*

*Oh...um...I loved how you took care of me, Ron, when my hand was cut after the first try with the Portkey,* Hermione thought. *I tried so hard to be angry with you-and it was so hopeless.*

*Er, er...I love that look you get when you're learning something new,* Ron thought back.

*I love how you always defend me from Malfoy when he's being hateful.*

*Mmmm-I _love_how you look when you're angry-well, most of the time,* Ron thought. This game might actually be fun if he wasn't in the midst of all this horror.

*You _do?*_ Hermione thought, perplexed. *Well, I like the way you found to _stop_me in the middle of being angry, like when we were, erm, ... fishing...*

*Yeah. _That..._* Ron was starting to feel closer to life than to death now. But he knew if he was on his way to somewhere else, that he definitely wanted that image of her and that feeling they stumbled upon going with him.

Ron paused a moment, listening to Voldemort as he screeched at Pettigrew, frantically chanting Reversal Spells and Suspension Charms to try and repair the Orb or keep it from further falling apart. Slices fairly riddled the front of the Dark Lord's robes and thickening lines of red were oozing from beneath- there had to be nearly a hundred of them now. In his panic to save the Orb, Ron noticed Voldemort had all but forgotten about him and Harry.

The Orb itself was pulsating, looking as if its shell was being battered from the inside out. The Spell was trying to respond to Voldemort's magic and hold strong, but at the same time, it looked as if it was trying to burst wide open.

*Remember the dream from the beach and I-the first time we tried-?* Ron stopped, blushing with his thought to her even through the pain. *-when I, er, kissed you? Then we brought it out of the dream and made it real-that afternoon in the Owlery?*

When the wonderful feelings Ron remembered and sent to Hermione came back to him multiplied by two, he was completely amazed at what happened next.

Voldemort's anguished shouts had been ringing in his ears for a few minutes now. But suddenly a veritable scream of pain and indignation escaped the Dark Lord.

Two wider beams of red light, not unlike those that had shot from Ron and Hermione's wands when they had merged their power to erase the Dark Mark on the cottage wall, burst through the surface of the Orb. The light streams in their writhing dance twisted and rolled around each other from the Orb's center, cutting two swaths through the surface of the glittering sphere. The small, diamond-shaped sections of Orb surface that peeled away began to spin as they were cut loose and their velocity increased as the weight of the layers of the Orb's skin was released. The spinning diamonds flew out in all directions from the sphere, their razor-like edges making large, jagged slices across Voldemort's face and body as they flew into and around him. Able to shield his eyes with only one hand, the Orb shrapnel did its damage there as well, leaving Voldemort blinded and screaming in pain and confusion.

Ron noticed movement from the corner of his own eye; a little puff of fog blew around the corner of the cottage. He cranked his head around to look to the south and saw fog rushing in all at once.

Though it wasn't enough to completely release the terrible aches and pains and debilitating muscular spasms, the Cruciatus Curse itself suddenly stopped and Ron let out a sigh of relief.

*Harry! Harry! I think we might be able to get out of here!* Ron slowly pulled the Portkey out of his pocket and reached as far as he could toward his best friend's arm, but Harry was several feet out of reach, still looking dazed. Ron also realized that the Cruciatus had left him unable to move much at all. "I don't know how we'll get to the Portkey site like this-and I'm not sure the portal's still open-but we've got to try."

Harry heard him and laboriously reached his own arm out toward Ron and the Portkey. But the three feet that separated them might as well have been a mile. They could move no closer.

Suddenly Ron felt someone lifting his head, then his back, then his whole upper torso. He squinted up into the sunlight at the person lifting him-and smiled weakly once he saw it was Valeria.

Valeria appeared to be a bit less frantic now, though her eyes darted toward the Dark Lord every few seconds as if to make sure she wasn't dreaming that he was still seated on his heels, moaning. He was beginning to move about a bit more now that the jagged bits of the Orb had finally spun themselves away or had fallen to the ground.

The fact that Voldemort was moving at all began to worry Ron. *Damn, Harry!* Ron said slowly, craning his neck to peer at the blood-soaked wizard with a tense expression. *We've got to get out of here before he heals himself again or some such thing. I don't know how he could do it from what he looks like now, but from what you've told me-*

*With his power he can do some unbelievable Dark magic,* Harry agreed weakly. *So we'd better get out soon. But I don't know if I can move.*

A vision of Valeria nearly carrying a dementor-sickened Harry along in the forest came to Ron all at once-as did an idea. "Valeria-can you get Harry to the Portkey site?"

Valeria looked as if she'd heard him, but she sat blinking and paused for so long before answering that he became impatient.

"Valeria!"

Valeria jumped at the sharpness of Ron's tone. "I think so," she responded quietly.

"Then get him over there," Ron instructed. "Here's the Portkey. If Voldemort starts anything, give him-"

Harry might not have been able to move, but apparently his hearing was in order. *Now who's gone mental, Ron?* he interrupted in Ron's mind. *You think I'm leaving you here? It's not going to happen. We all go, or nobody goes.*

*But, Harry, it's you he-*

"Shut it, Ron!" Harry said aloud.

Ron sighed and looked up at Valeria again, shaking his head a little. _This is going to hurt like hell again-probably almost like the curse itself... _"Give me a lift? I mean, all the way up?"

Valeria looked at him oddly, as if she doubted that helping him to his feet was going to keep him there. But she nodded and moved to get further underneath his back so she could use more leverage to lift him. Ron thought to tighten his grasp around his wand, which had been lying nearby.

Ron gritted his teeth and grimaced with the shooting pains firing through his body; the muscle cramps felt as if they would tear his muscles from his bones. He tried to begin supporting his weight under his own power, but he couldn't help but cry out several times from the pain of his body trying to adjust itself-which, of course, created another problem.

*Ron, what's going on? Did I hear you yell something-or did I just feel it in you?* Hermione demanded in his mind.

*Now who's the telempath? Trying to steal my glory here? And I'm reveling in my great victory-you should see how invincible I look.* Ron tried to joke with her as he looked down at his crumpled, bloody, and beaten body, but even the voice in his mind was strained with the pain. *It's okay, Hermione. The Orb Spell's down, can you feel it? Voldemort's down and bleeding now, too, for the moment. I-arghhh!-it's okay-just my leg that time-erm, I can't explain it all right now, but we're trying to get to the Portkey site before he wakes up.*

*And Harry? Is he all right?*

*Erm-I wouldn't say either one of us is all right, but we're alive and that'll have to do for now,* Ron thought to her, realizing after hearing himself that no matter how battered his body was, in some ways he had never felt better in his life.

*Ron, you said the Orb Spell is down now?* she questioned. *Voldemort's bleeding?*

*Yeah-both,* Ron pushed to think to her. Obviously she was talking to someone on her end.

"Okay, Valeria," Ron began, "I think I can stand on my own now." Valeria let go and he immediately began to topple. He moved one foot to the side to counter and though he let out a little yelp when he did it, he caught himself and remained upright. "Harry's turn."

Valeria moved to Harry's side and helped him a bit more easily to his feet, Harry hissing and crying out in pain every once in a while as Ron had.

Once they were all standing, the three of them set off across the cleared area. Though it was only a distance of some hundred feet to the Portkey site, each step was excruciating and they moved with painful, agonizing slowness: stumbling, falling, leaning and staggering. Valeria was trying to help support the weight of both boys on either side of her and still manage to guide them in the right direction. She barely succeeded.

Harry and Ron finally stepped onto the area where the first Portkey group had stood. The two boys painfully lifted their arms toward each other, then locked hands around one another's wrists for stability, the Portkey clasped between them.

Valeria stepped back to watch and gave a wan little smile.

"Aren't you coming with us?" Ron asked, confused at her actions.

"I didn't know if I still could," Valeria said meekly.

Ron himself managed a tiny smile. He let go of Harry for a moment and reached for Valeria's fingers. Once he found them, he placed her hand over Harry's and the Portkey, then trapped her hand between his and Harry's as the two boys locked wrists once again. Ron looked back up and noticed that she now looked a little fearful.

Valeria started breathing more quickly and began to look panicked again. Her few minutes of calm and composure had moved on, but they had certainly come at a good time. "Is this going to hurt? What's going to happen? What about if we fall from the sky on the other side like I saw the others do?"

But before Ron could answer any of her questions, he watched as Valeria tried to calm herself; within moments she spoke with a bit of quiet confidence. "You know-never mind that. You two are my friends. I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me and I know you're trying to help. It's just that I've never known anyone except Abuelita that I could trust before. But I trust you."

Ron had trouble keeping up with the emotional flip-flops in Valeria's mind, but he tried to put himself in her position. "I'm glad you can trust us-and you're right, we wouldn't do anything to hurt you. It'll be all right. You might feel like you're spinning really fast and you might get a little dizzy-that's all."

"I'm sorry I'm like this. I wish I wasn't."

"Valeria-it's okay. You didn't do anything to deserve what he did to you," Ron assured. "We're going to get you some help, remember?"

A little smile broke out on her face as she looked at Ron. "So you really don't mind taking me with you?"

Ron did his best to grin back at her. "How else am I going to keep George out of my hair? Besides, he doesn't take too well to being stood up."

Noticing that a blush rose to her cheeks, it seemed to Ron that she was feeling more hopeful, too.

"The only thing is-I never did this transporting thing before with anyone non-magical, so I think I'd better connect you between Harry's mind and mine just in case. Ready?" Ron began to search for her mind, a task that was easily accomplished. He was glad that it was he who could feel her feelings and not the other way around-because he wouldn't want her to feel how uneasy he was about transporting a Muggle onto Hogwarts grounds. Just as in telling her about magic, he knew that what he was doing for Valeria was right-he couldn't leave her here to endure the wrath of Voldemort once the Dark Lord found that his plan had been foiled again. But Ron also knew he was breaking a very important, very stringent regulation from the Ministry Code by helping her._ Oh, well, I'm in it up to my eyeballs already. They might as well have the rest of me.  
_  
Ron took one last look at the most evil wizard in a century or two. The Dark Lord was on his feet, but crouched into a fetal position with his hands and arms wrapped over his eyes. Blood soaked the sleeves of his robes. From all indications, the Orb's disintegration had not only stripped him of his power to keep the students there, but it had left him blinded as well. Voldemort's voice, muffled into his robes, still called Wormtail's name, but with an ever more despondent tone since he received no response.

Ron considered saying something to Voldemort, but he decided to keep his mouth shut for a change. _Finally, Weasley! For once you don't have to have the last word to know that you've actually won.  
_  
*So, Hermione,* Ron thought to her, looking down at the Portkey that seemed to be no more than a piece of ugly fishing hat at the moment. *Dad used to do something he called jump-starting to the Anglia when the engine wouldn't fire up. How do we jump-start this Portkey?*


	30. Bad, Blundering, Blasted Portkey Blues

**~ Chapter 30 ~  
The Bad, Blundering, Blasted Portkey Blues**

It was difficult for Hermione to believe what she was hearing in her mind.

*Ron, you said the Orb Spell is down now?* she questioned. *Voldemort's bleeding?*

*Yeah-both,* Ron pushed to think to her.

"The Orb Spell's down-and apparently, so is Voldemort, for the moment," Hermione told Dumbledore. He had been standing at her bedside opposite her parents for some time now, ever since Ginny had brought him there from the Portkey site. "The Cruciatus has stopped now, though-the pain he was channeling to me is gone. So Ron should be able to think a bit more clearly, too."

"Am I correct in assuming they still have their half of the Portkey?" the headmaster asked.

"They've got the Portkey, but-" Hermione had to take a little shuddering breath before she could go on, "-but they've only just barely made it to the Portkey site. And I'm afraid they don't have much idea how to adjust the Portkey to make the transport work safely, either."

Dumbledore stood silently in thought, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. "Hmmm-I wonder...Just how strong was Ron's ability while you were in Ireland? Was he able to control it well?"

Hermione was unsure how to answer. "Yes, it seemed as strong as it ever was. He once connected all five of our minds so we could fight the dementors together. Does that tell you anything?"

"A bit," Dumbledore replied. "And-forgive my boldness in asking. I wouldn't unless it was very important, so please understand the intrusion. We haven't time for you to explain just how the Orb was destroyed even if you know, but- am I also correct in assuming that it had something to do with emotions?"

Hermione blushed in anticipation of what was coming. "Yes, Ron seemed to think so."

"Emotions shared between you and Ron?"

Feeling the heat in her face, Hermione shot a sideways glance at her parents, and at Ginny, who had been standing silently at the end of the bed, listening. She wished she could have been half as calm and collected discussing it as Dumbledore seemed to be. "Yes, sir."

Dumbledore didn't react to the admission with anything other than what seemed to be a scientific interest. "I rather thought so. Then I think we may have a chance. Get your cloak-we'll be going outside. We have no idea how long Voldemort will be incapacitated, if indeed he still is. We haven't sufficient time to get to the regular Hogwarts Portkey site-using it may prove useless in the end, anyway. So we'll make do with what we have."

The headmaster swiftly ushered Hermione along before him in the corridor with Ginny jogging frantically at Dumbledore's heels. Ginny had been asked to come along to give any information she had about Ron's ability, but it was clear that it was Hermione who was the key. The little group scurried toward the flagstone courtyard just outside the end of the hospital wing. The crisp midday March air, fresh and damp from the soaking rain of the day before, briefly took their breath away as they all stepped outside.

"So what are we doing here?" Hermione asked, confused.

"This will be our new Portkey site, of sorts," Dumbledore explained, "but since we haven't time to magically set up a proper one, the only way to draw them in is to use-you."

"What?" Hermione said, looking around the large courtyard as if she might see some contraption to fit herself into and become a human Portkey.

"Harry and Ron have the Portkey to initiate the transport sequence. They may need to use all the energy they have just to do that," Dumbledore explained. "Here outside, the castle's Security Spells won't affect the Portkey as much -and what little magic is left won't have to work its way through the stone walls. It's my educated guess that there's very little energy left in that Portkey at all at this point."

"So-can it get them home?" Ginny asked, her voice edgy with concern.

"We can only hope so," the headmaster replied.

Dumbledore, Hermione, and Ginny were so focused on the task at hand that they didn't notice that a small crowd had started to gather behind them. Most of the other Weasley children had trickled their way out into the courtyard, as had the Doctors Granger and a few curious students who had noticed all the excitement.

The headmaster placed Hermione in a location far enough from the castle walls or any steep drops from the edge of the courtyard so that any miscalculations in the transport would not cause a fatal landing.

Hermione looked out over the wide expanse of flagstones polished by hundreds of years of student footsteps as they contrasted with the week-old spring grass that had sprouted to outline each stone. Many of the stones shone brightly, still wet from the rain, but reflecting the bright sunshine of the day. She suddenly thought of the violent landing that she, Fred and Harry had endured in their failed transport attempt in Ireland, and found herself hoping that Dumbledore could soften Ron and Harry's arrival so there would be no broken bones or concussions-_if _indeed they could manage to make the transport at all.

"All right, Hermione," Dumbledore began. "There is very little I can do to help the two of you with this. You already know the spells that you and George used to energize the first half of the Portkey, and since that half of the Portkey is here now, there will be no opposition in polarity, which means the same spells will likely work best. If the power of the Portkey isn't enough, you'll have to rely on something else, and I'm thinking-no, I'm _believing_- that the strength of your and Ron's emotions may have something to do with that. If those emotions can overcome the Orb Spell, they just might be able to do this, too, not that anyone has ever tried before. As for Ron's telempathy and how he can use it best-only he can be certain. Knowing Ron as I do, I'm guessing his first reaction will be that he doesn't know what to do. But that's where you come in as well. You need to calm him into knowing that he _can _do it, and make him understand that if he trusts himself he should be able to pull everyone through. Ron is their lifeline right now. Make him follow his own path, Hermione- I believe you already know better than anyone else just how to make him do that."

Hermione found herself speechless and blushing again madly at Dumbledore's words, but she sneaked a look at Ginny, who only sent her a warm, encouraging smile. Hermione took a deep breath and began to concentrate on Ron's question of a few minutes earlier.

*Ron, are you there?* she asked. *Is anything happening with the Portkey yet? Are you and Harry touching it together?*

*I'm here, nothing's happening, and we're all three touching.*

Hermione closed her eyes. She knew they'd always planned on bringing Valeria with them in the second Portkey group, but suddenly the reality of it hit her.

*You're sure you want to go through with-that?* Knowing that Ron would be the one to face the blame for transporting a Muggle onto Hogwarts grounds made Hermione very uneasy. It was his telempathic connection that would help bring Valeria here, after all. But she also knew Ron well enough to realize that if he had his mind made up, there was very little chance of talking him out of it. To make matters worse, she knew that what Ron was doing for Valeria was right and he would do the right thing no matter what it cost him personally-that was just the way he was.

*Hermione, I can't leave her here-*

*I know-okay, okay. We've got to get all _three_ of you out of there then. I'll try and lead you through the spells. The first one is _Empezarum Poderus. _Is Harry strong enough to do the spells while you and I talk them through? Because if the power starts to waver too drastically, you're going to have to equalize it with _Fluccio Paradum_while he continues the first spell.*

*Just a minute,* Ron thought to her, then there was silence at his end for a moment or two. *Yeah-Harry says he's fine to do it-says it won't be the best he ever did, but it'll get done.*

Hermione glanced around briefly. She had been concentrating so hard on her mental conversation with Ron that she hadn't noticed even more people gathering around her. Apparently, word was getting around the school that not only was something exciting going on in the hospital wing courtyard, but it had something to do with the missing students and that anyone was being allowed there to watch. Aside from the nine students in the entire school who hadn't yet heard, and the only six who had never met Fred and George, everyone else in Hogwarts was either crowding into the courtyard or was on their way to try.

Shoving their way to the front of the crowd to stand just behind Hermione were the twins. George held the heavily-bandaged Fred by the arm to steady him while trying to outdistance Madam Pomfrey, who was still making her way through the crowd. Somewhere between the twins and Madam Pomfrey were Molly Weasley, in pursuit of the twins as well, and Arthur Weasley, in pursuit of Molly.

Once Fred and George finally stopped behind Dumbledore, Hermione, and Ginny, they realized that aside from the parents not far behind, the rest of the Weasleys _were_the front of the crowd. George pulled Fred between the wall of male bodies that had been Charlie, Bill, and Percy.

The three brothers closed the gap behind the twins (though it appeared that Percy had to be coaxed into doing so) to create one final obstacle to those who were desperately trying to return Fred to bed. Fred obviously seemed to think it far more important to cheer Hermione on and see everyone else home safely than to take care of his own medical needs at the moment.

"Come on, Hermione-you can do it," George said. "Give them those spells and whatever else you've got to make it work. Do that thing you do in your head with Ron."

"Yeah," Fred agreed. "Bring our little brothers home-even that one with the spectacles and the funny-colored hair."

# # #

"That's not who I think it is, is it?" Harry asked Ron cautiously as he looked toward the corner of the cottage.

As puffs of gray fog blew through his field of vision, Ron could vaguely see a shadowy form jutting out from the stark line that was the corner of the cottage. Peering around the edge of the wall and ducking behind it once he noticed he'd been spotted, was Wormtail.

"You don't think he's coming over here, do you?" Ron asked. "Do you think he's answering to Voldemort again-or just keeping track of us to avoid us?"

"I don't know," Harry said, still watching. "But we're not taking a chance on finding out. What was that spell-_Empezarum Poderus? _You'd better have your wand out just in case we need that other one, Ron. You two ready? Here goes."

Harry raised his wand and began chanting the spell as he concentrated on the Portkey. Ron pulled his wand out to hold in his other hand and kept an eye on Wormtail. Valeria, with an expression on her face that wavered somewhere between terror and awe, simply stared at her hand where she grasped Harry's and Ron grasped hers, the Portkey sandwiched between them. When nothing happened, Harry began chanting the words more intensely and with more expression. Three minutes of chanting with no response from the Portkey was beginning to get worrisome.

But all at once Ron felt a very slight warmth against his fingers and his face lit up. "Harry-do you feel that? It's working! Keep it up, Harry-you've got it now!"

Ron watched as Harry kept concentrating on his spell, continuing to chant without missing a beat. But he noticed that Harry's mouth turned up a bit at the corners once he was convinced the spell was working.

"My hand's getting hot-is that what it's supposed to do- is that okay? Last time, you-" Valeria asked anxiously.

"That's not just okay, it's a good thing-" Ron interrupted. He glanced back at the spot from where Wormtail had disappeared just moments before, "-a very good thing."

As their hands continued to warm, Valeria suddenly cocked her head to the side as she often did when she was nervous. She appeared to be listening to something. "It's a dog...a big dog...barking," she said matter-of-factly.

Listening intently both inside and outside of her head, Ron could hear nothing, so he just assumed it was something that only Valeria could hear-elsewhere. All he knew was that he was glad to be leaving and wasn't ready to stop for anything. *We're on our way now, Hermione!* Ron thought to her, even though he could hear no response.

Ron watched as the color faded from everything around them. As beautifully green, lush, and colorful as the Irish spring countryside was around them, his last glimpse of it was nothing but shades of gray.

Aware that he'd never before actually _felt_ the pull of the Portkey except for the first few seconds, Ron hoped that the strange sensations he was feeling were just part of the normal workings of the spell. _Maybe it's just working on low power or slow motion or something. Or maybe this is what it feels like to use half a Portkey instead of a full one. _He was aware that Valeria and Harry were there nearby even though he could not see them. In fact, he couldn't even see or feel himself. It didn't feel as if he had a body-he just _was. _

Somewhere in the distance he heard a whirring noise. It sounded rather like the Muggle airplanes he'd heard flying over London when he was there-but one that was far away, sputtering and choking. It kept getting closer and louder, but Ron began to realize that what he'd thought were empty spaces in the louder noise were really just quieter spots in what was becoming a very, very loud noise indeed. The louder bits began to vibrate his eardrums and he could feel in Valeria's mind that she was starting to panic.

*I think it's okay, Valeria,* Ron said encouragingly. *Don't worry.*

*Are you sure this is right?* Harry thought, beginning to sound worried at the incredible volume of the noise. *Did this ever happen to you before with a Portkey?*

*No, but-do you think this is the noise the other group heard?* Ron asked. *They made it to Hogwarts even with the noise, whatever it comes from, but Dumbledore had to help them. Hermione?* Ron thought to her. *Hermione! Can you hear me?* There was again no response. *I'm going to try the other spell she gave us!* Ron shouted to Harry's mind in case Harry couldn't hear it over the noise.

*Okay!* Harry shouted back. *I think we'd better try something!*

Ron tried to concentrate his power through his wand hand-wherever that was-and began to chant, _Fluccio Paradum! Fluccio Paradum! Fluccio Paradum!_The noise began to quiet a bit and Ron gave a sigh of relief.

*I think it w-* he began to think to them and at that moment, the noise increased tenfold.

That was when the bottom fell out.

All at once they were falling, faster and faster-there was nothing but gray. They still could sense one another and knew it was happening to all three of them. Valeria was screaming, but Ron could barely hear it over the din. They had no idea if they were on their way to falling onto something or if they would just keep falling endlessly until-until what? They couldn't feel air passing them, there was no feeling of pressure from one direction, or any real sense of gravity at all. But there was a feeling that something was closing in on them, pressing in as if they were being sucked into the middle of a tube and down through it at the same time.

*Oh my god, what is this? What's happening?* Valeria yelled into Ron's mind.

*I don't know,* Ron shouted anxiously. *Harry, you still doing the spell?*

*Still trying,* Harry thought back.

*Hermione! Hermione!* Ron yelled into her mind, panicked. *You've got to be there! Answer me!*

Very weakly, Ron heard a voice. *Ron-what's wrong? Have you left?*

*Yes, but-I can barely hear you-* Ron said loudly, hoping she could hear him better than he could hear her, *-and we're falling-the spell, the magic-I think it's falling apart!*

*You've tried the other spell-_Fluccio?_*

*Already tried it!*

*Oh no!* Hermione said. *Dumbledore thought it might not hold!*

*Tell him to help us!*Ron responded. *Or tell us what to do, like he did with you and the twins!*

It was quiet for a moment and Ron tried not to think the worst. _She'll be back-she'll be back-it's okay-_

*Ron?* Hermione thought to him weakly.

*Still here.*

*He tried, Ron,* Hermione said dejectedly. *There's nothing he can do-it fell apart too far away from here.*

Ron couldn't believe what he was hearing. The adults in his world had always been able to save him; they had always managed to help him if things got too tough. As much as he had recently come to resent what he felt was his parents' over-protective attitude, he now felt strangely isolated and vulnerable-and he suddenly felt very, very young.

*Then we're-* Ron thought to her as it dawned on him there was nothing left to do. *After all that, we're...*

*No, you're not,* Hermione said. *Dumbledore said it's up to us now. You and me. He doesn't know how our emotions destroyed the Orb, but I told him you thought it did.*

*That was easy once I figured it out,* Ron thought. *I told you. What we feel is stronger than the Orb's magic could ever be.*

*Then we're going to figure this one out, too,* Hermione thought. *Dumbledore said if we don't let go and keep holding the connection open, it might be enough to pull all of you through with what little magic is left in the Portkey-*

*Yeah, but-* Ron sounded doubtful.

*Ron,_ you _have to think of what to do,* Hermione insisted. *You're the only one who can. Use your telempathy, it's all we've got left!*

Ron tried to ignore the intensity of the noise around him; he felt like it was beginning to scramble his brains. *Why does everyone think I know how to solve this? I don't know how to use the connection to get us back to Hogwarts!*

*Yes, you do! In some way, you do. And if you don't, you'll have to think of a way.*

*I _don't_know-what if we're going to splatter onto something in seconds and I-*

*Stop it, Ron! You don't have time to think about that!*

*Well, I'm so sorry, but I'm just a little concerned right now-* Ron snapped back.

*But you-!* Hermione sounded as if she wanted to shout at him again, but then seemed to gain control as if remembering something. *Okay, Ron, calm down-we'll both calm down. We don't have time for this. Listen to me-I trust you, Ron. I believe in you-I _know_you can do it.*

*I'm glad you bloody well know, because I don't have a clue what to do-*

*Trust _yourself_, Ron.* The tone of her thought ended on a pleading note. *Remember what Dumbledore said... Follow your own path...*

Suddenly Ron felt the bizarre combination of the enormous, suffocating weight of being the only one who could help the three of them, and the wonderful, ecstatic feeling of lightness that Hermione's words gave him.

*I don't-how do I start?* Ron thought, now sounding willing to try, but unable to find a plan. *Okay, so we're lost in the spell. We've got to find something else to pull us through- something else to help the magic support us. We've got to find a direction, something solid to steer us. What we feel's still stronger than this magic, isn't it?*

*I can guarantee it is from here,* Hermione responded reassuringly.

Ignoring his fears about their situation now, Ron tried to think back to the beginning. _Okay, the beginning, the beginning...What part of my telempathy could i use to help us? We already left Ireland; we're no more likely to be able to go back than be able to go forward to Hogwarts at this point. What if... _*We've got to get to you-to focus on you-where are you at Hogwarts? What do you see-right now?*

She looked frantically around her. *Oh, erm, we're in that courtyard-you know, the one on the far side of the hospital wing,* Hermione began. *I'm not too far outside of the door and I'm facing out to the north of the Quidditch pitch. The spring grass is coming up, and the stones are all wet and shiny from the rains yesterday-*

Ron remembered the time he connected with Hermione at the beach. In his mind, his recall of that day was so vivid that there was very little difference between the memory of that experience and the memory of anything he'd done in real life. Hermione's mind was so strong; she was so observant and could communicate all of the minute details and feelings that so effectively drew him in. He was working to build a perfect picture of where they were aiming for in his mind, but his picture needed a sky. *Is it still raining?*

*No-no, the sun's out.* Hermione looked up toward the sky, then out toward the higher mountain range to the north of the castle. *The sky's a beautiful, clear blue, with enormous puffy white clouds. In fact, some of the clouds are hanging on the mountain peaks to the north.*

Ron couldn't be sure, but it felt to him as if their falling had slowed somewhat. His mind was building a stronger and more detailed picture of what Hermione was looking at as she continued to describe what she was seeing. Whatever was happening to him, Harry, and Valeria was beginning to diminish as his image of where they were heading began to come into focus. Ron was certain of it now.

*I've got the picture of where you are now, Hermione. In my mind I can see you there,* Ron thought to her. *I think it's starting to work-it feels like we're slowing down. Okay, so I know where we're going-now I need to know why. With everything else going on, it's kind of hard to feel what you're feeling, but I know we've got to use it because that's the way the telempathy works best. Help me, Hermione. I can't do it without you.*

*All right.* Hermione sounded as if she was trying to identify all of the million feelings inside of her right then. *I can't wait to see Harry-I can't believe he's fought the Dark Lord again and survived. But I won't trust that he's all right until I see him myself. And I know you'll be glad to have Valeria here-just so that she can finally get the help she deserves. But mostly-I need to know you're going to be okay-and that you're going to be here...*

*Believe me, I'm trying my damnedest.*

*Then feel like we did before, Ron. Think what it felt like to be so close-last night - this morning...To me, it felt so...right...*

The connection was tying them tighter. He could feel his arms around her and hers around him. Even though they were physically far apart, everything else between them was as close as it had ever been and more so. In fact, sometimes feeling each other within the connection made it harder to feel the separation between them than it did in the physical world.

Ron was suddenly reminded of the feeling he'd had when he and Hermione first managed to make a full connection-as if just the two of them were inexorably tied together and were surrounded by some perfect, opalescent bubble. Hermione had been caught too much off guard not to trust him completely then-it was the only reason they'd been able to connect so fully.

Since then, the connections with her had been there, but they'd been different. Hermione was always holding back something, even if it was just a little-until last night. And now everything was back: she trusted him again, loved him, she gave in fully to him and welcomed him into every corner of her mind and her heart. He could feel it all in her, and with it came the feeling that it was going to be what made this work. The thought came to him that now he knew what part of him held more power than any other-and what held more than enough power to return them to Hogwarts.

*Hermione, close your eyes-imagine me there with you-like we did at the beach that time. Pull me into your mind and I'll pull you into mine. If we use what we feel and believe it strongly enough, that can be the force to steer us back to Hogwarts.*

Ron could feel Hermione envisioning everything in front of her, first herself in the picture, then Ron in the picture with her, holding her. In his own mind, he wrapped his arms around her as if was holding on for dear life itself, because in all sense of the word, he was -only this time, it was life times three.

*Hermione,* Ron began, looking down at her as she gazed up at him with those wonderful, all-consuming eyes. * I know what it is now. All I have to do is follow my heart-because it will always lead me to yours if I let it...*

Hermione made a soft, contented little noise. *Then you'd better be following it right now.*

The two of them held each other tightly in their minds until Ron lifted his head a bit. *The falling's stopped completely! I can feel it! And that awful noise-it's gone! It's pulling from my stomach now-you know, like it's supposed to do with the Portkey. It's working!*

*Ron, your family's here, too-all of them. Ginny's standing right next to me-they can help bring you back too. Can you let Ginny in the connection, too?*

*Only if she closes her eyes and promises not to bug me forever when she finds out how we feel about each other,* Ron joked. But his strong hold on Hermione gave him the confidence to reach out for Ginny and her emotions and allow her into the connection as well.

*Hey, Ginny,* Ron thought to his little sister, trying to make the situation sound less serious. *Hope you don't mind that I had to leave Harry in Ireland, but he-*

*Oh, you think you're so funny, don't you?* Ginny responded. *Good thing Hermione already told me he's coming. Maybe I don't want to help _you_get back here-just send Harry and that girl along-*

Ron laughed a little in his mind-gods, he'd forgotten how good it felt to laugh. *Okay, so I brought him, too. Where's everyone else?*

*Right here,* Ginny answered. *They're trying to pull you home right along with me. Fred's hanging on my shoulder, with Charlie behind him, and Percy behind him-we Weasleys stretch for miles here, it seems. But we still need you back, it still feels like something's missing...Oh, that's right-_that's_what we're missing-the target for all of our new lovey-dovey Ron and Hermione jokes...*

Ron groaned in his mind. *Now what makes you think Hermione and I are getting on well at all, anyway?*

*_You're_not looking at her face right now. There's just no denying it, brother dear,* Ginny told him with a teasing tone. *Harry's connected with you, too, right? Is he all right?*

Ron hadn't checked with Harry and Valeria for a minute or two because he had been concentrating so completely on Hermione.

*Harry! All right there?* Ron asked his best friend through the spell.

*Weasley, I don't know what you're doing over there on that side of your mind-but you must be doing a bang-up job!* Ron heard Harry think to him. *Since I knew you were connected to Hogwarts, too, I reckoned it had something to do with Hermione or Dumbledore. But how in the world did you ever even out the spell fluctuations and get the Portkey magic to start again?*

*Don't know how it worked, really. But you should know that it's Hermione and Ginny who are bringing us home just now, even if it was Dumbledore who was right-as always,* Ron responded. *Valeria?*

Ron only heard a moan.

*Valeria-are you all right?* Ron asked again, a bit more urgently.

*Yes-I think. I'm not falling any more, but I feel like my stomach's being ripped out,* Valeria answered. *Is this going to take much longer?*

*I don't think so,* Ron assured. *Believe it or not, that feeling in your stomach? That means it's all going right now.*

Valeria moaned again. *Does it feel this bad to magical people? Here I thought being on the fishing boat in the storm made me seasick...*

All at once, Ron felt himself being jostled about. _Again? _he thought. But this time felt different once more. He tightened his arms around Hermione in his mind, trying to hold on, trying to make sure the spell was strong, trying to make sure he and their connection managed to get the three of them back to Hogwarts alive...

Suddenly Ron's arms were ripped from Hermione and it was as if all the air was sucked from his lungs, but the next sensations he felt were at once a welcome and harsh return to the painful side of reality.

# # #

Sirius pounded his way down the numerous steps of the tower, ready to sprint from the bottom landing. But as he turned the tight corner, he ran headlong into a large, solid figure who must have just arrived at the tower.

Moody's years of Auror training caused him to react immediately, snapping his wand up before him until he realized it was his partner who had come at him like a runaway train.

"Gotta go!" Sirius panted, _"Now!_Heard the explosion that time instead of feeling it! Noise came from down there-by those cliffs-can get there faster as a dog-"

"Black!" Moody said, grabbing him by the arm to stop him momentarily. "You still don't know what the explosions were, do you?"

"No-don't care-could be Harry down there-"

And with that, he was off, transforming as he ran, which caused him to stumble and roll once or twice. But it did nothing to stop or even slow him from making progress down the long, rocky trail toward the cottage.

The great black dog had just reached the crest of the last low hill when the winds came up. It had been a beautifully clear, calm, sunny spring day when he had first looked toward the ocean from the ancient lookout tower. But now, as he gazed down from the top of the hill, it was quite another story. Patches of fog were everywhere - blowing about, obscuring the sun, changing his visual orientation in the unfamiliar territory. Occasionally the fog would clear for a moment and let him see a short distance ahead, but just as quickly the patches would move together and leave him facing a wall of white.

Still certain that his destination was near the cliffs, Snuffles focused in on his sense of smell, working hard to find any minute differences in the intensity of the scent of the salty ocean air. He knew that if the scent kept getting stronger he was moving in the right direction. But having to work at it without the use of his full sight slowed his descent toward the source of the noise.

Snuffles had to be more careful to follow the path now, plus he was aware even in his dog mind that he should be worried about letting Moody know where he was. Hoping that his bark would carry through the valley, he stood at the top of the ridge and barked several times, but he had no time for more.

Soon the dog came to a bridge that crossed a small, deep creek.

He heard someone wailing nearby; it sounded like a person who was upset or hurt. But it wasn't Harry-in fact, it wasn't a voice that he recognized at all. Maybe he had run all of this way for nothing.

A sharp wind blew in from the ocean, bringing with it a fresh wall of fog. He felt frustrated at being almost blinded again. But wait-something else was carried in on the breeze! It blew by so fast, but it was definitely a scent he recognized. Another weaker gust brought it back again, and this time there was no doubt: Snuffles smelled Harry.

Charging through the trees that grew along the side of the little creek, Snuffles found a clearing; along the edge of the creek, he could detect Harry's scent quite clearly. He scanned the entire area with his nose, soon discovering what he believed to be Ron Weasley's scent as well; apparently the two boys had been here together-very recently.

Wandering deeper into the woods, nose to the ground, Snuffles soon discovered what had been enough to send Harry's scent downwind so strongly. Lying shoved under some brush were two rucksacks: one Harry's, one Ron's-but the dog found no one nearby. After he had scanned the surrounding area thoroughly without success, Snuffles carefully picked up the straps of both rucksacks in his mouth and headed back toward the trail by the bridge. Moody would likely be waiting there by now if he'd heard Snuffles' guiding barks.

But there was no one waiting by the trail-not yet, anyway. Snuffles dropped the rucksacks at the edge of the path and listened carefully. The wailing he'd heard before had ceased, but he could hear someone crunching through the brush on the other side of the bridge where he had come from. He was fairly sure that would be Moody, but he decided to fall back into the cover of the woods, just in case. Snuffles tried to wait patiently, but something was bothering him that he couldn't work out in his dog mind, so he got back on the trail, picking his way through the rocks and taking care not to make too much noise.

Snuffles stopped and stared straight ahead. The fog was moving so rapidly and thickly that it was difficult to tell anything for certain. But he now heard the faint hum of people talking, and he would have sworn he saw movement ahead. The fog cleared for a minute or two and there, through the bushes in the clearing behind the cottage, were two men. The larger one appeared to be either very old or very ill; the other, smaller man had a wand in his hand and spoke softly to the larger man.

Snuffles watched the two men through a space in the bushes. He was fascinated by the smaller man, who seemed to be more animated. There was something almost familiar about the way he moved, his nervous mannerisms, his nearly-frantic attitude. The little man's face was covered with the hood from his cloak, so that was no help. His dog-mind simply couldn't process who it could be, and it was too dangerous to transform where this stranger could possibly see him.

The big, black dog was about to move closer when he heard footsteps on the path behind him. He looked back for a second, then returned his gaze to the men far in front of him, but it was already too late.

The men in the clearing had heard the footsteps, too. They both looked up in panic, then quickly back at each other. The smaller man pointed his wand at the larger one, then mumbled something and pointed. With a large "bang!" and a puff of smoke, the larger man was gone.

The smaller man turned to look toward the trail, his cloak hood falling back fro his face. He must have seen Snuffles peering through the brush, because he squinted in apparent disbelief, staring straight into the dog's face through the swirling fog.

Even from the trail and through the haze, Snuffles watched as the little man's face went ashen. A light breeze brought a strong scent to Snuffles' upraised nose-then something from the dog's past crashed into his mind. Now there was no doubt whose rat-like scent that was: it was Pettigrew.

Baring his teeth, growling and snarling, Snuffles charged through the brush toward the little round man. The dog was instantly frenzied in his pursuit, not caring that his feet were being sliced by the sharp granite stones beneath him. His only thought was to get to Pettigrew and hold him there-with his teeth and by the neck if necessary- until he found out what had become of Harry.

The round little man shrieked in panic at the sight of the enormous black dog. He immediately pointed his wand at himself and began chanting a spell that didn't seem to be working properly. Peter looked frantically around for a place to hide, but the best he could do before Snuffles would be upon him was to retreat behind the well.

Snuffles leaped across the clearing once he was out of the brush, rocks and twigs flying into the air from beneath his feet. He knew he could not clear the well if he tried to jump it, but how he wished he could! If only he had time to transform...

Running toward the side of the well to get at his former-friend-turned-enemy, Snuffles dove at Pettigrew's ankle, managing to sink his teeth deep into Peter's leg. He tasted the warm, salty blood as it began to ooze into his mouth, but Pettigrew brought his fist down hard on the top of Snuffles' head. The blow jarred the dog's teeth loose, and as Snuffles reached out to snap again, the only thing he managed to catch in his mouth were Pettigrew's robes. He yanked at the cloth relentlessly, hoping to throw Peter off balance and into the dirt; he could feel the material give way in his sharp teeth.

But with one deft move, Pettigrew scrambled to the top of the well, ripping his robe from his neck and throwing it into Snuffles' face.

Snuffles, momentarily tangled in the robe, heard Pettigrew shuffling his feet across the slippery top wall of the well to the other side. The dog shook his head from side to side, frantically trying to rid himself of the robe wrapped around him. Finally, the robe flew aside and Snuffles looked up in time to see Pettigrew look down on him with a mixed look of satisfaction and relief.

The little man pointed his wand at himself and mumbled something the dog couldn't understand. But the last few words from Pettigrew made perfect, frustrating sense, even to his dog-mind:

"Not this time either, Sirius."

With that and a puff of gray-blue smoke, Pettigrew was gone.

Snuffles was incensed at the loss, pouncing on the robe and shaking it from side to side with his head as he growled, snarled, and salivated. Holding the robe to the ground with his front feet, he bit at the cloth time and again, tearing it, ripping it, shredding it as he yanked his head skyward, trying to release some of the frustration that had set in once he had found it was Pettigrew he was dealing with.

The dog didn't notice Moody walking up slowly and cautiously from the trail, eyeing him carefully until he could get a look at the cause of the dog's canine tantrum. The old Auror looked as if he was rather hoping that Snuffles hadn't attacked a human with the same ferocity that he was using in attacking the robe. But even the sight of the shredded robe didn't give the man a clue as to what had made Snuffles so angry.

Moody did seem to know well enough to leave Snuffles to his raging until his bitterness was spent. The Auror stood back and watched, dropping the two rucksacks in his hand to the ground.

Once done with the robe, the dog raced around the area, nose to the ground, searching in case Harry or anyone was still there, but he found nothing. Finally, Snuffles was done. The robe lay in ruins on the ground, not looking as if it had ever been any type of whole cloth at all. The dog flopped on his side in the dirt, panting, his tongue hanging well out of his mouth.

Moody moved to the well and lowered a nearby bucket down into it, drawing a bucketful of cool water up. He smelled the water before untying the bucket, then set it on the ground near the resting dog.

"Bad break, eh, Black?" Moody said.

Snuffles just glanced at him sideways, and Moody could tell there would be no communicating with him for a while yet. But soon, the huge black dog pulled himself dejectedly to his feet and stood for some time, lapping at the cool, clean water from the bucket.

Finally, Snuffles looked unenthusiastically at Moody, ready to move on with whatever else had to be done.

"I reckon you'd better stay a dog until we've sniffed out all of what went on here," Moody told him.

Snuffles just continued to stare at the old Auror for a moment to show his agreement, then the two of them began methodically covering the area.

As they turned to begin their actual search, the old Auror and the dog saw there was a cottage beyond the well-there had definitely been other people here recently besides those they'd seen. But there had also been-something else.

They both stopped after they'd first visually scanned the area, frozen in place, trying to absorb whatever it was they sensed. Snuffles' canine senses told him even before he used his nose to confirm it: something horrible had happened here. The smell of blood was strong, but it was nothing compared to the stench of evil that still lingered so heavily in the air. He knew he would need to stay in dog form for now to best use his sense of smell, but he also knew he would eventually need to transform himself into wizard form to truly understand the full significance of what had happened in this place. Even as a dog, the sadness at not finding Harry and finding this instead was nearly overwhelming.

An hour later, the two men sat in the cottage, Sirius slumped on the sofa where Harry had spent the past three nights, Moody seated where Ron had slept. Snuffles had been able to confirm that all of the Hogwarts students had indeed been there, and been there very, very recently- probably only hours before. They had discovered the scuffs where Valeria had been dragged, found the burn marks left from where Harry's fireball hit the ground, and inspected where the cobras had slid along their path toward Voldemort. Snuffles discovered the spot where Ron and Harry had lain suffering and sweating under the Cruciatus Curse. And worst of all, Snuffles had had to search out all of the many patches of blood, terrified that the blood of one of them would belong to Harry.

"The blood over there on the bunk-it's not Harry's or Ron's," Sirius said. "I don't know Hermione's blood scent well enough to say. But judging from the background scent of Ron's, it could be one of the Weasley twins'. Still it had to be from a day or two ago."

"Damn-it's impossible to figure out just what happened!" Moody mused. "But I sure as bloody hell am hoping they got out before_ that_got to them." The Auror nodded his head toward the Dark Mark still staring from the wall. "All that blood in the yard-can you tell whose it is?"

"I'm not sure," Sirius began. "I'm almost afraid to say. But there's this smell, this rotten, nasty stench that evil reeks of-it was there with all of those bloody patches in the clearing. As evil as Peter is and has been in the past, it wasn't his blood-when I bit his leg, I got a first-hand whiff of that. But when you think of the company he keeps, and with that Mark on the wall-damn, I'm praying it belongs to You-Know-Who..."

Moody sat quietly for a moment. "Could Harry do something like that? To a Dark wizard as powerful as He is?"

"I don't think we've even seen the beginning of what Harry can do," Sirius said earnestly, "as long as he's got his friends to back him up-and his family."

The two men sat wearily in thought over that for several minutes. Moody finally moved forward on the sofa and looked out of the window. "That fog is really getting thick out there-you don't suppose that means that weather contraption's out of order, do you?"

"Why?" Sirius asked. "You ready to try and Apparate-to Hogwarts?"

"I don't see why not. We don't have any other way of finding out if they're there-and they're obviously not here," Moody replied. "All that'll happen if it's still up is we'll slide back down the inside of the barrier again."

"Then you're offering to go first, right?" Sirius asked, perking up a little.

Moody sighed, then shook his head from side to side a bit. "All right, Black-I'll go first. You had to chase down Pettigrew already today. But if it doesn't work, there'll be no laughing-understood?"

Sirius tried to look appalled at the suggestion. "Who-me?" he said innocently. "Would I do such a thing, Moooody?"

The old Auror just grimaced at him and began to stand.

"Wait-what's this?" Sirius had been absently shoving his hand down between the sofa cushions as he and Moody talked. He felt something warmer and fuzzier than the worn, dusty threads of the rest of the sofa's covering. Pulling out a small, crumpled wad with one hand, he stretched it out with his other to reveal that it was...one black sock.

"Hmm," Moody grunted. "Do you think it was one of theirs?"

Sirius started to move it toward his nose, then rapidly shoved it away and held it at arm's length. "Wasn't Harry's or Ron's, but I don't even have to be Snuffles to know that it definitely belongs to a Weasley."

# # #

Ron, Harry and Valeria slammed at an angle into the wet flagstones in the Hogwarts hospital wing courtyard, sliding and bumping across the surface like ships tossed in a churning sea. Though the three of them first landed together in one bloody, sweaty, hurting heap, each of them spun off in their own direction as their velocity slowed at differing rates. Each was lying still but for the most part conscious, their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath and realize that they had finally made it.

The gasps and cries finally ceased from the crowd of students and professors that spilled from the inside corridor into the courtyard, the masses hushed until they were informed of the conditions of the travelers. Dumbledore's numerous reminders to the crowd, at first pleading and later fiercely demanding, had kept the majority of the courtyard free and clear to give the Portkey travelers 'landing room' should they need it-and clearly, they had needed it.

Valeria's body had come to rest at a point closer to the crowd than the two boys, but Dumbledore's orders for everyone but family to hold their positions rang strongly enough in the ears of those in the crowd to stop them from pressing forward. This held true except for one rather tall, red-haired figure who knew there would be no family there for Valeria and who pushed past his bandaged twin to run to the side of the trembling, crying black-haired girl lying on the flagstones.

Hermione and Ginny burst from the front of the crowd, too, well ahead of the rest of the Weasleys, who seemed to understand that the two girls would and should reach Harry and Ron first. Hermione quickly ran and paused momentarily by Harry, who had landed the next closest to the crowd, but as soon as she saw that he was all right and in the good care of Ginny, she ran to help Ron.

Skinning her knees on the flagstones as she skidded to his side on the ground, Hermione threw herself on Ron's chest as he lay on his back, his mouth first gasping for air then curving into a slight smile as her hair fluffed into his face.

"Owww! Hey-careful-warrior returning from battle here!" Ron hissed, laughing weakly at her exuberance until he found it hurt to laugh.

Hermione had inadvertently jammed her knees into Ron's side in her excitement to have him back, but she hadn't taken the time to look down. "Sorry-" she started to say automatically as she moved back a bit, then sat up long enough to look into his face and over the rest of him. In sudden realization, she gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes had been filled with tears of joy as she first touched him, but she now felt them fill with sympathetic tears of pain as she saw his condition.

"Oh my god, Ron-I had no idea!"

As far as she could tell, there was very little of Ron's body that had not been affected by what he'd gone through since she'd seen him earlier this morning. Scratches, cuts, burn marks, scrapes, dirt, and blood covered almost every inch of him-and she realized that the parts of him she couldn't see had probably fared no better.

Ron didn't seem as concerned about his condition as she was, though; all he did was smile weakly into her face. "You did it, Hermione. You brought us home."

"_We _did it, Ron," she answered. "I don't seem to recall having any great telempathic powers of my own, except when you're willing to share yours with me."

"Yeah, but without your mind and your l-"he still seemed to have trouble discussing it without the privacy of the connection between them. "We wouldn't be here if you hadn't used how you feel-how_ we_feel-to give me a guiding point to steer for."

Hermione smiled, realizing that if Ron wasn't desperately concerned about his own condition, then she was just too happy to see him to stay overly concerned herself. "No matter how strange it seems, Voldemort's plan was just foiled again by love-except this time, instead of it being Harry's mum's-it was-ours."

Ron grinned, looking distant for a moment. He chuckled in spite of the pain it caused. "Won't he be hacked off."

Hermione looked around the courtyard momentarily. George had picked up Valeria and was carrying her toward the hospital wing, the crowd parting to let them through as Percy barked orders at the chattering students. Ginny, Mr. Weasley, and Dumbledore were at Harry's side, the headmaster beginning the Mobilicorpus Spell to lift Harry gently from the ground and move him inside to the hospital wing as well.

On their way toward her and Ron were Charlie and Bill, who were helping Fred walk quickly between them. Striding several dozen feet behind them, after having checked briefly on Harry, was Molly Weasley.

Hermione looked into Ron's face again and their eyes met. "I'm coming with you to the hospital wing, you know."

Ron smiled his cocky grin and determinedly reached his arm around her neck, pulling her face down to meet his with the crook of his elbow. "You better believe you are."

She felt her lips meet his and hungrily accepted his warm, demanding, and lingering kiss. Aware that her parents and his family were likely witnessing this as they shared how happy they were to be safely together again, Hermione realized that she probably should have been embarrassed. But all she wanted to feel right now was Ron -anything the families saw that embarrassed them was _their_problem.

So engulfed in their kiss, Ron and Hermione hadn't even noticed the three Weasley boys exchanging knowing glances and smirks and turning to face their mum head-on, forming a wall of bodies once more.

Molly walked up to her sons, a perplexed expression on her face. "What's the matter? Is Ron all right?"

"Yeah, he's pretty much okay," Fred answered, glancing over his shoulder behind him. "He seems to be-erm-awakening."

Molly moved to step between Fred and Charlie, but the two of them leaned closer together to block her path. She looked at them oddly, a bit irritated. "Well-let me see."

"No, I don't think you want to do that," Charlie said innocently.

"Why in heaven's name _not?" _Molly demanded.

Bill pushed closer to Charlie to keep his mother from passing between them in that direction as well. But before he spoke, he glanced over his shoulder again. "We don't think that what he's got is contagious, exactly. And we certainly don't think it's life-threatening."

Bill looked at Charlie and Fred for support; they both shook their heads that it wasn't.

"Poor Ronnie," Bill continued, a grin breaking out on his face despite his attempt to be serious. "We do know what he's got-and he's got it _bad!"_


	31. Just Ron

**~ Chapter 31 ~**

**Just Ron**

_Damn! Nobody warned me it was going to be so hard to be sixteen! _Ron walked along the castle corridor and thought back on everything had happened since that birthday that seemed so long ago.

The hearing had gone better than expected. In spite of the fact that Lucius Malfoy was the major force behind prosecuting Ron Weasley once he returned from Ireland, word had gotten around that it was simply to get back at all of the Weasleys for some minor altercation between his mother and Draco Malfoy.

But since Ron had truly broken wizarding laws that were on the books, with a situation that _could_have technically jeopardized the safety of all students at Hogwarts (though Ron could hardly see what threat Valeria could pose), Cornelius Fudge was manipulated into setting a hearing. In fact, Mr. Malfoy had seen to it that it was a closed hearing, despite the public interest; and it had been set for the Ides of March, which was enough to unnerve Ron all by itself.

Little could anyone know that Bill and Charlie Weasley would muscle their way through the back doors of the Ministry chambers during the hearing, allowing in all of Ron's friends and family, along with a number of other 'interested' parties, including numerous_ Prophet_reporters and cameramen. Everyone knew that these days, Cornelius Fudge needed no further bad press, especially since Voldemort had re-surfaced and been seen, the very same Dark Lord that Fudge had claimed all this year was defeated, if not dead.

Lucius Malfoy had been strutting like a peacock about the back of the chambers as Fudge held court in the beginning of the hearing, before the Weasley boys arrived. But he seemed incensed by the very presence of the reporters and the cameras once they burst in, for he knew very well the sorts of pressures being faced by the Minister of Magic.

Ron had made his statement, as had his parents, and they were waiting uncomfortably for a decision from Fudge. But one by one, Harry, George, and the still-bandaged Fred had gained permission to come to the fore, defending Ron for his actions and implicating themselves such that if Ron was expelled and sent to work camp, then the punishment would have to be doled out to all of them equally. Even Hermione, in spite of Ron's ordering her to stop, had stated that Valeria saw her do magic first in order to start a fire in the hearth and that if Ron was expelled from Hogwarts (taking a very deep breath to say so), she would need to be expelled right along with him.

There were murmurs among the now substantial crowd lining every edge and covering every square foot at the rear of the chamber. Nearly everyone was waiting with bated breath to see what Cornelius Fudge would do with the five students lined up side by side in front of him.

The press was ecstatic at having their first real chance at pictures and a story from the five students who had fought off dementors, hobbled Voldemort, saved a poor victimized Muggle girl, returned to Hogwarts on a disabled Portkey, and managed to come away with their lives in spite of it all.

A very bold young _Prophet _cameraman pushed his way to the front of the crowd, calling out, "Fred! George! All of you turn around!"

The twins, never ones to shun attention, not only wheeled to face the cameraman who turned out to be an old school chum of theirs, but the two boys reached over to swing Ron, Harry, and Hermione around to face the crowd as well. Protesting after three or four flashes went off in their faces, the three younger students started to turn again to face Fudge, but not before someone in the crowd began to clap.

At first it was just a single student in the back, clapping loud and strong. Ron squinted into the crowd and saw Seamus Finnegan pounding his hands together.

"Drove the snakes from Ireland again, Harry and Ron did -" Seamus said loud enough for most of the court to hear, "-when they booted out old You-Know-Who. Even St. Patrick would be proud! Long live the defenders of the Eire!"

"You are out of order, sir!" Fudge shouted. "As are the rest of you for even being here!"

But Fudge's comment was only heard by the first few rows of spectators, for the most amazing thing had happened. Seamus continued to clap -next, the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team started in-then Dean and Neville. Soon there was applause from every Hogwarts student in attendance except for Malfoy and his henchmen, who simply scowled and tried to send 'death looks' to any students applauding around them.

Before long, even those adults from the wizarding community who knew the Weasleys and who would ordinarily _never_disrupt an official hearing such as this, threw caution to the wind and began to applaud the five students as well. The twins, Ron, Harry, and Hermione could not help but smile humbly at the crowd and at the unbelievably embarrassing, but wonderful feeling of acceptance and gratitude the clapping, cheering, yelling, and whistling crowd was now offering.

It was then that Fudge turned to Lucius with a look of resignation upon his face. Apparently, his current political situation couldn't allow him to expel and send a group of student heroes to work camp, especially not when they had reportedly dealt the Dark Lord a serious blow (as had been leaked throughout the countryside since the return of the five students and Valeria from Ireland). Besides, Fudge obviously did not want to become known as the man to send Harry Potter away at a time when a great number of the public felt The Boy Who Lived should be at Hogwarts learning the skills to help him save the wizarding world.

So the charges against Ron had been dismissed, much to Lucius Malfoy's dismay. Cornelius Fudge had slinked away, hounded by an angry, embarrassed and verbally abusive Mr. Malfoy.

But the Ides was not yet over, and though false promise was given when the charges were dismissed, conviction wasn't to be the act of doom that Trelawney had predicted. As everyone was leaving the Ministry chambers, trying to avoid the persistent press, everyone had managed to do a better job of escaping than Harry had, as usual. Ron and Hermione, followed by Arthur and Molly Weasley, were headed down the numerous steps of the chamber entrance, leaving Bill and Charlie with Harry to fend off the press as best they could. Suddenly, a marble headpiece was knocked from the upper stair rail by Harry in his own effort to get free of the cameras and microphones. The huge stone was falling, plummeting straight for Ron's head, and was surely on its way to giving Ron a bigger headache than any that Fred had survived.

Lo and behold, just at the right moment, an enormous black dog had bounded up the stairs, jumping onto Ron and Hermione and knocking them to the ground; the headpiece smashed to the pavement where the two of them had been standing just milliseconds before.

Amazingly enough, although the entire incident took place in the presence of a large group of wizards and witches, even magical spells couldn't manage to ensnare the enormous black dog. Ron's last image of the dog was when the animal stopped; the dog turned momentarily and almost seemed to be smiling (if dogs could smile) as he led the Ministry watchwizards on what turned out to be an extensive wild goose chase. What many in attendance found interesting, but perplexing, was that although retired and seasoned Auror Alistair Moody had been present in the crowd, he refused to give chase and only shouted behind the dog that the animal "did a fine job for a pig-headed mongrel!"

That had been over a week ago, but it was these thoughts that were replaying themselves now in Ron's mind as he walked along the corridor on his way to meet Harry and Hermione. _Never thought I'd say I was glad to be back to normal working at school,_Ron thought.

"Have you seen that the press is here again?" Hermione asked Ron as he approached her and Harry. Ron's two best friends had been standing and staring over the balcony railing at the ruckus by the lake far below.

"Again? Why?" Ron asked. "What's going on?" Ron sidled close to Hermione and leaned against her warmly as the three of them looked over the balcony together. He tried to focus on a white-blond figure on the lake's edge. "Is that _Malfoy_down there?"

Sure enough, standing at the water's edge, surrounded by reporters and squinting against the repeated flash of the cameras, stood Draco Malfoy. Ordinarily, this sort of attention would have been his cup of tea-but apparently, not today.

Draco Malfoy was hardly dressed for the occasion. In fact, he was hardly dressed at all. He was totally drenched, his school robes were completely missing, his shirt was open and halfway off, and his trousers lay on the mud, clinging desperately to one ankle. The only piece of clothing that seemed to be fully intact was Draco's pants; though wet and clingy, the green and silver-colored undergarments at least covered that part of Draco that most of the student population of Hogwarts never, ever wanted to see.

Ron laughed. "What'd he do? Insult one of the Merpeople-Great idea, Malfoy!" he shouted as he spotted something rising out of the water. "Hey, look!"

Hermione gasped and Harry chuckled as a large tentacle reached up from the surface of the water and waved. The crowd surrounding Malfoy must have noticed as well, because they all suddenly stepped back, staring in awe at the enormous, dripping appendage that extended high above their heads.

All of the crowd moved-except Malfoy. Since his back was turned toward the water, he had no way of knowing that he was being very rude indeed to a squid in love. The tentacle continued to wave at him a moment, but when it got no response, it reached onshore and soundly slapped Draco across his backside with a resounding "smack!" The blow threw Malfoy forward onto the slimy mud face-first, giving the cameramen another exciting shot of a Malfoy in distress (which was _always_front-page news).

The tentacle withdrew, as did the squid, not to be seen again until a sympathetic Hagrid visited the lake several days later to console the lovesick beast.

Harry and Ron could barely contain themselves from rolling on the stone floor with laughter. They would finally calm somewhat on their walk toward the Great Hall for supper, when Hermione would speak up and very sincerely ask, "But what about the poor squid?"-to which she never got any response except for another round of gleeful guffaws.

The Great Hall was abuzz that night with talk of Draco and the squid, though Malfoy himself never appeared to give his own version of how it had all come to pass. But a nasty rumor had been floating around the school since that afternoon regarding Malfoy's misfortune.

Apparently, Malfoy claimed that an enormous silver-white eagle had abducted him on his walk back from Quidditch practice. The regal bird had then carried Draco far out over the lake and promptly dropped him into the surprised, but waiting arms of the squid. Malfoy would never admit to sweet-talking the squid into taking him back to the Hogwarts shore. But during those several hours in the lake, somewhere between the depths and the bank, promises must have been made that Draco never intended to keep-hence the frustration of a jilted squid.

In spite of Crabbe's and Goyle's corroborations of Draco's story, Lucius Malfoy thought the whole thing sounded completely preposterous. He felt it made his son sound so addle-brained that he had paid the _Prophet _management a small fortune to keep the story- and especially the pictures-out of print.

"Are you ready?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione after everyone had finished eating. "He's expecting us at seven." Harry turned to Ginny, sitting next to him, and said quietly, "Still need help with that homework?"

Ginny frowned a moment, looking puzzled. Then she looked into Harry's eyes and a look of realization came over her; she nodded excitedly. "Oh-oh, yes, please. Thank you for reminding me-" she continued, glancing at Ron, "-I almost forgot."

Harry smiled warmly at her. "I'll meet you in the common room. I shouldn't be long."

In spite of Ron's deliberate, but silent observation of the Harry and Ginny arrangements, Ron, Harry, and Hermione headed into the corridor. Hermione appeared to be getting annoyed at the constant laughter and joking between Ron and Harry regarding Draco -it had really gone on for some time now. Suddenly her eyes narrowed.

"Wait a minute," Hermione said suspiciously, stopping them both with her hands on their arms. "I know this is Malfoy, but that whole story with the eagle is really odd and- you two are finding this_ way_too funny."

Ron and Harry looked at one another with brows raised. They almost burst out laughing again, then turned away from each other with hands over their mouths, knowing they had better try and regain some control over themselves before turning back.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron urged, still smiling and fighting the tears of laughter in his eyes. "We've got to get to Dumbledore's office-he's surely got a lot more to do than wait for us-and we're late."

Hermione frowned, thinking and stepping off again to continue her trek when a strange expression came over her. "Harry," she started suspiciously, "I know your Patronus is a stag. But I don't think Ron ever told me what _his_was. Just what form does your Patronus take, Ron?"

Ron looked very uncomfortable. "I'm telling you, we'd better get up there-"

"It's an _eagle,_ isn't it?" Hermione accused loudly, stopping cold in the hallway. "A big, silver-white eagle! Ron, how _could_you? You've just gotten out of trouble with the Ministry, and now you're asking for it again-"

"Yes, but did you _hear_ what Malfoy said to my mum while we were gone?" Ron fired back. "To my _mum!"_

"I know how hateful he can be-better than anyone!" Hermione said very loudly, her voice echoing from the tall corridor ceiling. "But I can't believe that you sent your own Patronus to get him, something that could tie you to the whole thing-does anyone else know that it's an ea-"_  
_  
Though the corridor had been empty until this moment, Ron heard footsteps and saw three third-year Slytherin boys turn the corner into the hallway some thirty feet in front of them.

Ron's eyes widened. He quickly slipped one arm around Hermione's waist and flipped her to face him at the same time he pushed his lips against hers. With two steps he backed her into the wall and continued his quite effective silencing procedure.

Hermione, at first muffled and taken by surprise with her eyes wide open, finally gave in to the kiss.

Harry was unable to see Ron's strategy coming, but at least he seemed to understand what his role was then. He turned his back to the two of them and leaned against the wall, kicking at the floor with the toe of his shoe.

The three Slytherin boys sniggered at Ron and Hermione as they passed, but said nothing more to them. Then they looked at Harry.

"Where's _your _girlfriend, Potter?" the tallest boy asked sarcastically.

Harry must have been pleased to finally have a response for gits like this. "Sitting in the common room so she doesn't have to watch _your_ugly face walk by."

The boy narrowed his eyes at Harry. But since the Slytherins were only third-years, and had heard tales of Harry's amazing near-defeat of the Dark Lord, the boy and his friends didn't seem to think it was worth pushing their luck.

Ron pulled away from Hermione a bit. "And so _who's_going to get me into trouble again?" Ron asked. "You and Harry are the only ones at Hogwarts who know-okay?"

Hermione just stared into his eyes as he still held her tight against him with one arm. She nodded her head slowly, trying to let her mind and her senses catch up with all that had just happened.

"They're gone now," Harry said dryly, stepping up to his best friends. "All right, I understand why you did that, Ron-and it was probably a really good idea, since I'm sure they didn't hear anything. But, _please_," Harry begged, wincing, "you two have _got_to let me know when you're going to do that stuff. It's better than your fighting, but-not by much."

Ron and Hermione just looked at one another, blushing, and reluctantly pulled apart to continue their walk with Harry toward Dumbledore's office.

Hermione remained uncharacteristically quiet until they climbed to the next floor. "So, do you have any idea why it's-that?" Hermione asked Ron, sounding a bit too fascinated by the subject.

Ron decided he'd better tell her the little he knew. "I'm not sure. I know my grandfather had one-my grandfather who gave me the chess set. Eagles are magical creatures, too, you know."

"I know," Hermione replied. "They used to be kept by a few people as magical pets, if they could tame them. But then the Ministry had to outlaw them once they became endangered."

"Exactly- in fact, my grandfather had one of the very last ones that was legal," Ron continued. "My grandfather was supposed to be an outrageous flyer and he and the eagle used to fly together. I have some old pictures-but it's hard to tell if my Patronus is exactly the same."

"Well, at least it's an eagle and not some other thing-like an insect," Hermione said. "If I can ever conjure one, I hope it's not something-ugly."

"Even if it turns out to be a potato bug, I'm quite sure it will be a nice-looking one," Ron said with a glint in his eye.

Hermione shot him a look, but continued. "Eagles are very civilized sorts of creatures, you know. They can fly higher than any other bird, they're excellent hunters, so they must be good strategists, they're very good at catching their prey-" Hermione was being her usual encyclopedic self. "They mate for life, you know-" she continued excitedly, then looked strangely at him and seemed to consider what she'd just said. She blushed furiously and looked down, suddenly silent.

Ron tried not to laugh at her realization. "They do? Hmmm-what do you know..." he said matter-of-factly. But he kept smiling at her.

"So sorry to cut this fascinating conversation short, but -we're here," Harry said in apparent relief, moving to prepare for the gargoyle to leap aside. "Watermelon marmalade."

The door swung open and the three friends entered Dumbledore's office as the headmaster turned from the fireplace, apparently having just finished speaking with someone's head in the flames. He glanced at the two chairs in front of him, then quickly brought up his wand and changed them into a divan large enough for three, motioning for the three friends to sit down. Dumbledore himself settled into the large overstuffed chair closest to the hearth.

"I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that you've just missed a lively conversation with Lucius Malfoy," the headmaster said, "not that it would have been appropriate for me to let you be here. On the other hand, perhaps it would have been _very _appropriate for some of you to be present-but indeed the situation with young Mr. Malfoy was simply- unfortunate. Don't you agree, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron hesitantly peeked up from where his gaze had fallen to the floor, finding the headmaster looking directly_ through_him with a very amused twinkle in his deep blue eyes. "Yes, sir-" Ron squeaked, having to push the words out of his throat, "quite unfortunate."

But there was no doubt as to the meaning behind Dumbledore's look and his question. _Okay, okay, I got the message, _Ron thought to himself, _you're letting me slide this time, but once was enough. _Ron frowned a little, continuing to stare at the headmaster even after the older man had looked away. _How does he __**know **__these things?_

"So how are you feeling, gentlemen?" Dumbledore asked. "Phantom pains left over from the Cruciatus giving you any trouble?"

"Not any more," Harry said.

Ron just shook his head in agreement.

"You've already given me the details of what happened in Ireland," the headmaster said. "But I trust that you've had time to consider the importance of what the three of you managed to accomplish there, even if the major problem was a bit-shall we say-unforeseen?"

Harry looked rather disgusted by the whole issue. "I don't think we accomplished much of anything, except to get away."

"Ah," Dumbledore responded. "And to get away with all of your lives, on top of saving another, is not an accomplishment?"

"Well, yes, sort of," Harry admitted grudgingly. "But I couldn't defeat Voldemort-not completely."

"Not_ this_time," Dumbledore replied quietly. "So are you finished now, Harry? You're done trying? You've done your absolute best and it's still not good enough, so you're-giving up?"

Harry just stared at the floor sullenly.

"No!" Ron chimed in.

All of them turned in surprise to look at Ron after he answered so emphatically for Harry.

"He's not-he'd better not," Ron continued, talking excitedly. "He almost had him. Harry, you almost had him! You're fifteen and he's-" Ron looked around frantically, scrambling for an age, "-_old,_ and powerful and he knows all of that Dark, evil magic and he's done it for so long-and still-you _damned near had him!"_

"A lot of good that did," Harry said. "This isn't a contest where it's all right to come in second."

Ron moved to the edge of his seat so he could look more squarely at Harry where his friend sat on the other side of Hermione. "You turned his own snakes against him with your Parseltongue- you used your sheer power to fight him off with your wand against his-you got your will back from him after he used a spell you'd never even heard of before-and you even managed to try and help Valeria and me in the middle of it all!"

Harry still looked miserable remembering it. "You forgot the wandless fireball," he said dully.

"The _what?" _Ron said in amazement. "I must have been over the cliff then-but you'll be showing me _that_later. Harry-you were awesome! But he tricked you-you had no way to see that coming. He used your feelings about your parents against you because he was desperate-it was all he had left."

"It doesn't matter what he did-he still got away, and he'll be back."

"Ron's right, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly. "You had no way of knowing that he would use everything against you that you have-and everything that he lacks. He used your humanity against you, Harry-your sense of compassion, of honor. Voldemort owns none of those qualities, but he knew they were in you. You very nearly defeated him even when he stooped so low as to use your love of your parents to hurt you."

"Yeah-and I fell for it," Harry mused.

"But you know that now," Dumbledore continued. "You know he'll stop at nothing-that he'll use whatever he possibly can to distract you and demoralize you. Learn from that, Harry. Voldemort has a purpose for using those qualities against you. He knows that you'll try and look past those feelings now and make yourself more hardened to defeat him. But if you do, you move closer to his side than you've ever been before. If you give up on your honor, your compassion, your love-your humanity-just to overcome him...then it's too late-because he's already won."

Harry just looked up at Dumbledore and nodded numbly.

The headmaster continued. "It's why he wanted your will, Harry. He's always envied it, I'm sure of it. Now that you're aware of his tricks, I don't suppose you'll ever be 'falling for them' again, as you say. The stronger those good qualities are in you-the less chance he has of ever getting the better of you. Use that knowledge, Harry, to make yourself stronger."

Harry sighed, but appeared to be more optimistic. He sat up straighter and seemed more able to face what was likely to come his way again very soon.

As Dumbledore had talked to Harry, Ron had settled back on the divan and let his fingers edge their way over to Hermione's hand as it lay between them. His hand crawled over the top of hers and he pushed to intertwine their fingers together; a shot of tingles fired their way up his arm when she returned his gentle squeeze.

They sat for a few moments like that until Dumbledore swung his attention to them. He seemed to notice their clasped hands right away.

Ron and Hermione yanked their hands apart, both blushing furiously under his sincere little smile.

"Oh, no, no. Please-carry on," Dumbledore told the two of them. "You've already discovered that's a very powerful weapon against the Darkness. In fact, I don't think there's enough love in the world-why do you think Voldemort has been able to rise to power so easily?"

Still feeling his face on fire, Ron felt he couldn't deny what was almost a direct order from the headmaster. He reached again for Hermione's hand and pulled it over onto his leg, intertwining their fingers once more.

_Bloody hell-why do I always have to turn red like this? Bugger, I'll still be blushing at forty when I touch her. _His thought shocked even himself. _At forty, Weasley? You're only sixteen! What in blazes are you thinking?_

He tried to resist, but he couldn't keep from stealing a look to the side to see if Hermione was blushing, too; she was. But she was also smiling _his_smile at him and he couldn't resist glancing up to meet her eyes.

_**That's **__where those thoughts came from. _He grinned back at her, entranced. _Yep-forty it'll be-maybe even eighty. Oh, what the hell, Weasley, what would be the point of trying with anyone else __**ever **__when everything you could want is right there smiling at you?_

Dumbledore was still talking. "Obviously you've found it's something you may need to use in the future to help Harry against the Darkness. And it's equally obvious that between the two of you-well, you'll find out..."

Harry had been watching the intensity of the look between his two best friends and he sniggered at Dumbledore's words.

But Ron hadn't heard a bit of the headmaster's last two sentences. Harry's snigger snapped him out of his Hermione reverie for the moment. Ron looked quickly up at Harry, then back at Dumbledore. "Erm...what?''

Harry and the headmaster smiled knowingly at each other and changed the subject as Ron, clueless, continued looking back and forth between them. Hermione just sat smiling in embarrassment.

"I do hope that one thing you've discovered is that you can rely on yourselves and each other," Dumbledore said. "Each of you possesses strengths that will help all three of you get out of bad situations more easily if you work together. I see signs that this is becoming a habit with you, and I have to tell you that I could not be more pleased."

Dumbledore shifted in his chair. "But there is something you must know. From now on, you'll be less and less able to rely on the adults in this world to help you; there will be fewer people you can trust as time goes by. So you will need to learn to depend on and trust implicitly in each other for everything."

"Hopefully we'll get a bit more warning than we did when the Portkey wouldn't bring us home," Ron said. "That was a little-tense."

"Especially tense for you, I believe, Ron- in stretching to use that newfound ability of yours," Dumbledore said. "But as for usually getting more time to consider what's to be done, I wouldn't depend on that. In fact, the Portkey magic disintegration was probably one of the best learning situations I could have possibly asked for."

Set above three dropped jaws, three sets of teenage eyes riveted themselves on the headmaster in complete and utter shock.

"A 'learning situation'?" Hermione choked out, the only one of the three who seemed able to speak at all.

"Yes, yes, it was indeed," Dumbledore said calmly, nonplussed by their attitudes. "...As is everything in the world once you've gone beyond what books can teach you. Of course, it didn't start out to be so, but I will say that in the end the three of you performed admirably. And I daresay that Ron has a better feel for the full extent of his ability now-and what it can do to help in the future."

"Well, erm-yes," Ron stammered. "But you could have helped us with the transport? And-you didn't?"

"Yes, and no," the headmaster admitted. "But then, it came to pass that you really didn't need my help now, did you?"

The three friends exchanged looks that seemed to express identical feelings: Dumbledore was right again-and they _had_managed after all- all on their own.

The conversation had stalled somewhat after that last point and Harry and Hermione were beginning to look eager to be dismissed, but Ron had one more question he'd been anxious to ask.

"Professor, what about Valeria? Is there anything that can be done for her? We've been to visit her almost every day, but-is she ever going to be all right?"

"As you know, Ms. Cruz has been staying in the hospital wing to receive some rather intensive debriefing," Dumbledore began. "Damage that's been inflicted on one's mind over fifteen years cannot be erased and rebuilt in a few days or even a few weeks. The dementors are gone now, but they've left confusion in their wake. It will take some time-but the fact that she's learned to start fighting the demons on her own by thinking good thoughts and having confidence in herself and others-will only speed the process. She has you to thank for that, Ron."

Ron's ears turned a bit red at the tips as Dumbledore continued.

"Valeria will be staying on here at Hogwarts for some time, but she is very strong and I believe that with the love and support of her friends, that over time, she will prevail. She will have the same privileges in the castle as any of the students. By the way, she will be moving out of the hospital wing tomorrow."

"Is she moving to one of the dorm rooms?" Hermione asked. "Because I know she's older than we are, but I'm sure Parvati and Lavendar wouldn't mind..."

Ron turned to Hermione with a look of pride and gratitude in his eyes.

"That's a very kind and generous offer, Hermione, and I'm sure she would be pleased to know you made it," Dumbledore said, smiling gently at her. "But I believe Ms. Cruz is already very pleased with her roommate."

Ron, Harry, and Hermione looked at one another questioningly. _She doesn't know anyone else at Hogwarts except Fred and George, _Ron thought, _and though I know George would be more than willing, I'm sure Dumbledore would never go for that..._

The headmaster looked almost happy that he'd managed to confuse them, but he continued. "As you know, the guest quarters at Hogwarts can be transfigured so that they are identical to anyone's home surroundings. It's much easier to feel at home when it looks like home and you have all the amenities you're accustomed to. We have a small apartment in the guest wing that's been transfigured to look like a certain little Spanish bungalow. Valeria's grandmother will be arriving here tomorrow to stay with her until Valeria feels more adequately prepared to face the world. Her grandmother is being briefed in Spain about the magical situation as we speak."

Hermione gasped in delight, and all three friends found themselves grinning from ear to ear.

"I hate to bring it up and spoil the moment, but what about Voldemort?" Harry asked. "Can he get into Valeria's mind any more?"

Dumbledore looked uncertain what to say. "You know, Harry, we're simply not sure. That's one reason she'll be staying here at Hogwarts for a time, so that we can get a better idea of just how much power he had over her. It could be that the Orb controlled it since that was the way he first entered her mind. Now that it's destroyed, he may be powerless to contact her. Although she may certainly regain all of her mental capabilities to their fullest in time, there is a chance that Valeria may never be able to return to Muggle society. But Ms. Cruz is aware of that and at least at this point, she's very relieved and pleased with our arrangements. In fact, we've even had some offers from the townspeople that have allowed us to make some long-term plans for Valeria. I believe that in Muggle society, Harry and Hermione, it would be similar to what you've known as a witness-protection program."

Ron sighed. "All right, everyone ante up for the poor little wizard kid. What's a witness-that...?"

Hermione turned to face him. "It's meant to protect people who were closely involved in crimes and such so that the guiltier parties can't get to them to hurt them. Those who want revenge usually don't even know what name the protected ones are using or where they are."

"It's not exactly the same in that we think Voldemort has a fairly good idea where Valeria is in general," Dumbledore explained. "But if we keep Valeria and her grandmother in the wizarding community, we have people who either already have Security Spells around their homes and places of work, or those who are familiar enough with the workings of Voldemort that they will be able to sense if he's contacting her."

"So after she's allowed to leave Hogwarts, then she'll move nearby?" Ron asked.

"Most likely Hogsmeade for a while," Dumbledore replied. "We've had to file papers with Special Services of the Muggle government in Spain, but there should be no problem there. Ms. Cruz, by the way, has been in on planning for her own recovery and for the rest of her and her grandmother's future as well. I must let you know that she is very happy to be able to stay near the three of you and some of the others she's met along her rather strange path to Hogwarts. As a matter of fact, Madam Rosmerta has been thinking she may need another cook in the coming year since she's expanding her business, and I hear tell that Valeria's a fine one. There's a small house in the back of the Three Broomsticks, where it would be perfect for Valeria and her grandmother to take up residence."

"Won't it be strange for her grandmother to live in a magical town?" Hermione asked.

"She won't be the only Muggle in Hogsmeade-there are already a few," the headmaster said. "What's important is that Valeria and her grandmother will have each other. Besides, the way Valeria speaks of her grandmother-it sounds to me as if the woman might have a good amount of magic about her anyway. There are many kinds, you know."

Dumbledore smiled as he stood. "I believe that's all that I needed to cover with the three of you -unless, of course, you have any further questions."

Ron, Harry, and Hermione stood to go.

"I have just one more," Ron said, turning back. "It's about where I want to go for my birthday next year."

Dumbledore looked at Ron over the top of his half-moon glasses, his eyebrows raised; Hermione and Harry turned to glare at Ron at the same time; not one of them had even a hint of amusement in any of their expressions.

_All right-maybe it wasn't the best time to bring that up, _Ron thought to himself_-erm, I was kidding-sort of? _Ron squirmed under the intensity of their glares. "Maybe I'll re-think that." _  
_  
The headmaster sighed. "That's a fine idea-you do that." He watched as the three students headed for his office door. "And as wonderful as it is that you can produce it-you keep that eagle where it belongs, Mr. Weasley."

Ron, the last to pass through the door, looked back at the headmaster briefly and nodded. "Yes, sir."

# # #

"You're getting me all hot and steamed up here. _Step_away from the mirror."

The mirror was beginning to develop an attitude in Ron and Harry's dorm room several days later.

Fred had been staring into the mirror for at least fifteen minutes now, while Ron and Harry collected their Quidditch gear. He kept leaning his head from one side to the other, standing mere inches from the glass to consider his new scar.

"I don't know," Fred said, still engrossed in the mirror. "What do you think, George?"

"It looks fine. It's cool and all," George offered without sounding very interested.

"Oh-what do you know?" Fred said irritably, responding to George's lack of enthusiasm. "Now if I was some tall, good-looking, raven-haired woman, like you've been thinking about _all the time_lately, I might get an answer that means something."

"Valeria's coming to the game next week, you know-" George said excitedly, "-to watch me play brilliantly."

"How's she going to know that it's you playing brilliantly and not me, from that far away?" Fred asked.

George was silent for a moment, thinking, but didn't seem to have a real answer to that. "She'll know, that's all-we've been very, erm, close, lately-and-and-you're just jealous."

"Oh, right," Fred replied. "So you're saying, then, that you don't think Angelina is woman enough for me, eh? She'd beat the snot out of you if anyone ever told her you said that."

George considered what Fred was saying. "Hmmm-you know, you're probably right. Let's have a look at that scar then."

Ron and Harry rolled their eyes at each other as they collected items and threw them on their beds.

"At least now we know which one of you is which- for a while," Ron put in. He knew that in several months, once the wound was completely healed, that there was a spell that would erase Fred's scar completely-unlike a spell scar such as Harry's.

"I still don't know," George said to his twin. "It looks like a dead cow to me."

"It does not!" Fred protested. "If there's any cow to it at all, it's a dead cow reclining on a grassy knoll-look, see here? If I'm going to have a face with character and lots of scars, they have to be wicked ones, like Harry's."

Ron had to dig around in his trunk in search of his other knee pad, leaving a telltale orange tuft sticking out when he closed the trunk lid.

George stared at it with interest. "Hey Ron, that's not what I think it is, is it?"

"What?" Ron visually scanned the area where George was looking.

"In the trunk," George answered, standing up to flip the lid of Ron's trunk a little and yank out what appeared to be a battered piece of orange cloth. _"This, _you prat!"  
_  
_George shook the tattered old cloth out, revealing the one partial block letter "C" that hadn't been singed like most of the right side of Ron's well-worn Cannons shirt.

"You're not really going to keep that, are you?" Fred asked, acting as if to do so would be quite ridiculous.

Ron looked around as the others waited for his answer. He realized he must have looked a bit uncertain, so he just gave in. _Well, I was going to, but since they all think I'm mental to do it..._"Nah, why would I keep that old thing?" Ron grabbed the Cannons shirt, or what was left of it, from George and threw it in the rubbish bin by the door.

"So are you two finally ready?" Fred questioned in exasperation. "We planned to get down there _early _to practice, remember?"

"That's only because you don't have full clearance from Madam Pomfrey to fly yet, and you know she'll be checking on you at practice time," George pointed out.

"Precisely!" Fred agreed. "Which is why we have to go _now! _So I can get in some practice before there's practice, because then I'm benched. But Madam Pomfrey just doesn't understand. This body is an athletic _machine-" _he went on, thumping himself in the chest with his fist, "-it will heal itself better _with_Quidditch than without it. I just can't seem to get her to come around to my way of thinking."

Whether or not Harry was ready to go, he seemed ready for Fred and George to be gone. "All collected there, Ron?"

"I can't find that bloody knee pad anywhere!" Ron said in irritation, looking around the floor near Dean's bed now. "All of you go on ahead, though. I'll be down in a bit."

Harry, Fred, and George gathered up all their gear and headed for the door, telling Ron they'd be toward the back of the pitch so that Fred would have fair warning in case someone came to see who was in the air that day. Not that Fred sounded the slightest bit worried about being grounded for an even longer period of time.

Ron listened to their footsteps and their voices as they clomped their way down the boys' dorm staircase. Though he was absently looking for his knee pad at the same time, that wasn't the real reason he was listening until he was sure they were gone.

As soon as Ron was certain that Harry and his brothers would be in the corridor past the library by now, he walked purposefully across the room to retrieve his battered Cannons shirt from the rubbish bin._ We went through a lot together, we did. I didn't look much better than you when I came back from Ireland. Good thing they don't throw people away when they look like that. _He rolled his eyes at himself.._..I can't believe I'm talking to a shirt, _Ron thought, but after everything they went through while he and Harry wore it in Ireland, the garment really did seem more like an old friend. _Well, in any case, you won't be going in the rubbish bin, no matter what they say._

Ron knew his Quidditch practice partners wouldn't be expecting him right away, since a lost knee pad for Ron usually meant an hour or so of search and rescue-at least it had in the past. So he walked over to his four-poster and smoothed the spread, stretching the shirt out carefully so as not to damage it any more than it already was. He stared down at the shirt for what seemed like a very long time.

_Sixteen may be hard-but I think it will get easier, with practice. It's strange-like I've passed some point of no return, because even if I went back, things would never be the same as they were before, anyway. In fact, I'm not sure I'd want them to be. _Just staring at the shirt reminded Ron of some of the scary, amazing and life-changing events that had occurred since the morning he put it on and headed out the door for an innocent birthday Quidditch game in Ireland.

Ron reached down to a dark spot on the side of the shirt, smiling a little when his finger stuck as he pulled it away. It was sap from the forest, probably from the day he'd made an important, but impulsive decision to run after Valeria, trying to find out what her connection was to Harry. He knew he was making a decision that was likely to get him into trouble, and it did-more than he ever thought possible-but on the other hand, it was his decision to help his friend, and he'd do it again in a heartbeat. He knew he could be self-reliant now-he was past the point of needing others to make his decisions for him, unless he wanted and asked for their help.

Snickering at the fact that the shirt looked quite odd with its uneven leftover bits of sleeves, he was reminded how both of the sleeves were lost in the heat of battle. The left sleeve was lost to make his bandage when the firewood was hurled by who he now knew was Peter Pettigrew. The right sleeve mostly burned off when Harry was wearing the Cannons shirt and Voldemort set his arm on fire. But soon after that, Ron had been able to use the connection to convince Harry that he never had to fight Voldemort alone-_never _again, Ron pledged, if there was breath in his body. Ron had come to understand the depth of evil his best friend had had to face during the first four years of their friendship; but he'd never underestimate the power of that evil again. He was past the point of simply having to be told about it - now he_ knew_that evil firsthand, and knew the damage it could do to his family, his friends, and his world.

Running his finger along the frayed bottom edge of his shirt front, Ron thought about how he had torn off a section to make a bandage for Hermione's hand the first time the barrier had returned the first Portkey group to the cottage. There was no doubt now that he was past the point of being just friends with her. But the missing section of the shirt reminded him that he would always need to take care of her and her feelings, and that he should never take for granted anything about her or their relationship. He knew that they would always find things to bicker about, but that they could work their problems out if they did it together and simply trusted one another.

Ron turned the shirt over and poked his finger through a few of the Knut-sized holes in the cloth there. Those holes had been torn when Harry had still been wearing the shirt as he slid across the flagstones upon returning to Hogwarts with Ron and Valeria. Those reminded Ron of something perhaps more important than anything else.

It was Ron's telempathy that had helped Harry fight Voldemort and then ultimately help him, Harry, and Valeria get home. He, Ron Weasley, Harry Potter's best and most trusted friend, had been given this very special ability for a reason, and he needed to make sure that he never took that gift for granted, either. He had always wondered, growing up in the midst of his talented brothers, what his purpose was meant to be in the world-but his fate was now inextricably tied to the one person who would shape the future of wizarding history. He would be there at Harry's side as Harry fulfilled his own heroic destiny. Now Ron was past the point of ever having to wonder what his place in the world should be; he would never need to doubt his own self-worth again.

_Bugger! There must be a lot of dust on this thing, _Ron thought, rubbing his eye. For some reason, his eyes had started tingling while he was thinking and looking at the shirt and there was certainly no other possible reason. _I'd better get this put away before Dean and Seamus show up-blokes don't think about this kind of thing. You __**are**__ going mental on me here, Weasley! _But Ron had a sneaking suspicion that some blokes did indeed think about such things, especially when no one else was around-and he was also pretty sure that he would always be one of them.

Treating the shirt with much more reverence after he'd considered all it meant to him and his new life at sixteen, Ron smoothed out what wrinkles he could and very carefully folded it. He rummaged around in his trunk until he found several pieces of tissue left over from a long-ago-squashed Christmas box, then wrapped the shirt very gently. Once it was covered completely, Ron tucked it carefully into the very bottom of his trunk, placing a spell on it so that anyone happening to turn their eyes that way would never even see it to wonder what it was. But _he_knew it was there-and that was all that mattered.

Standing to glance at the clock on the wall, Ron realized that he ought to be getting down to the field if he was going to get in any extra practice at all today. He quickly scooped up his gear (minus one knee pad, of course) and made his way down the stairs, briefly scanning the common room for any sign of Hermione.

_In the library again, I suppose, _he thought,_researching that foolish paper for Advanced Charms. We have two whole days until it's due and it's only three feet of parchment. Well, I guess I'll see her later..._

_# # #  
_

Ron strode down the corridor, reviewing Quidditch plays in his head. The team was woefully unpracticed since the majority of the team had gone missing in Ireland for several days, then there was hospital time for a few of them. _But we'll come around...  
_  
_Then if their Second Chaser passes to their Third Chaser, and the First Chaser comes at the goal from behind so that the Third Chaser can pass off to him..._he drilled in his mind. That was until he heard the giggling.

Ron had just rounded the corner into the very long corridor that passed in front of the library and finally led out to the Quidditch field. The giggles were coming from a group of second-year girls standing together on the right side of the hallway. Interrupted from his concentration on his plays, he suddenly got the distinct impression the girls were all looking at him.

_Oh, bloody hell, don't tell me my zipper's down!_ He looked down quickly, blushing already. _Hmmm, no-no problem there. Shoes tied so I'm not going to fall on my face? That would be so-suave -right now. _He checked. _Nope, not that...I know, there must be someone behind me... _Ron glanced over his shoulder, then briefly on all sides, finding no one else in sight.

His mind was flying a mile a minute trying to think of why the girls seemed so amused, but as he came closer to them, he could see that most of them were blushing and shoving one of the girls toward the front. _Since I haven't a clue, I reckon I'll just walk on by and act like I haven't noticed their giggling-maybe they'll just carry on with what they were doing._

The girl that the others had pushed toward the front was one that Ron had seen at the Gryffindor table several times, but he didn't know her name. She had been looking down at the books in her arms and as she timidly peeked up, Ron could see that her face had turned a vivid shade of pink. One of the other girls nudged her from behind.

"Erm, h-hi, Ron," she stammered meekly, looking as if she wanted to bolt for the door, but was willing herself to watch his reaction.

_Huh? Oh my god, this is about __**me?**__! _Ron was so shocked that he wasn't sure what to do, so he just lifted his hand a little and nodded his head at them all, trying to smile pleasantly through his shock.

The pink girl blushed even more and turned to hide among the others, who immediately began giggling and twittering among themselves as they continued to watch him walk by.

Grinning to himself more as he swaggered farther down the corridor, he was deep in thought-which made it easy for his abductor to jump from behind and yank him backwards, drag him into a dark closet, and close the door behind them. But as soon as Ron realized what was happening, he dropped his equipment and easily reached behind him with his long arms, grabbing his kidnapper and pushing their body against the side of the closet with his own. One of his hands held their arm behind their back, his other held his wand under their chin, ready to hex them if necessary.

"Oooh," said a very pleased female voice, "you don't know how long I've waited to do that."

Ron made an irritated growling noise, then said in an angry voice, "Oh, it's _you_-playing with fire..." His eyes were beginning to get accustomed to the darkness and he could vaguely see her face now; he dropped his wand hand from its ready position and relaxed his arm behind her.

"Wasn't it _you_ who always said how really _good_I am with fire?" she asked impishly.

"How'd you know how to get in here, anyway?" Ron demanded, still angry, though her playfulness was taking its toll. _Why does she look so good when she's acting like that?_

"Two little twin birds owed me-and I think it went quite well. You seem to be reacting much like I did-being scared half to death..."

"Of course, at the time _I _was trying to save you from getting detention as a prefect. I wasn't just-playing around..."

"Hmm, a little irritated, are we? Let's see, you're breathing quite hard, rather grumpy..." Hermione put her hand over his heart and held it there. "Your heart's beating _very _fast..."

Ron reached for her hand and yanked it from his chest. "Hey, I didn't do that to you!"

"...Which was a very good choice, I might add," Hermione said haughtily. "Where in the world have you been? Harry and your brothers went by almost an hour ago."

Ron's body was beginning to calm after the panicked adrenaline rush of being dragged away; the semi-darkness of Charmless Carrel Number Seven was helping. "I was-taking care of something-and I can't find my knee pad." Ron flopped down on the bench behind him, grabbing Hermione's hand and pulling her down to sit beside him. She leaned back against his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her. "All right," he admitted, sighing, "-so you got me back. Was there some point to this kidnapping, or you just wanted to- do what the big kids do in here? Because now that we're big kids-"

She easily caught the suggestive tone of his voice. "Mostly, I wanted to see you once today, since I know you'll be at practice from now till-who knows. Plus I wanted to tell you something."

Ron's demeanor changed a bit. "Like what?"

Hermione took a breath before beginning. "Well, my parents were a little bit...um... taken by surprise by the whole Ireland situation..."

"You don't mean they were angry about what we-" Ron said tensely.

"No-they don't even know," she said, amused at his tone. "It's not about us-exactly. It's just that they didn't ever consider that my being at Hogwarts could possibly be so-dangerous. I think they're just feeling a little strange because we-well, we almost didn't come back-and that frightened them. They'll be all right-I know they will-but they're just a little clingier than usual right now."

Ron thought he was following her all right, but all of a sudden he was lost. "Clingier?"

"They want to come and see me here more often, stay in closer touch. I reckon I can't really blame them. They don't understand much about my life as a witch. So they want to come for the weekend and see the Quidditch game next week. Dumbledore told them they were always welcome."

"Oh, that'll be_ great!"_Ron said in relief. "We should be in pretty good form by then after we've had a little more practice, and Ravenclaw's team has-"

"I'm sure they'll like the game, too, but-" Hermione interrupted, still sounding as if she was trying to get something out. "But they want to take us to dinner in Hogsmeade with them-just-the four of us." She quickly turned to watch the reaction on his face.

Ron suddenly looked terrified and a little green even in the half-light, his eyes wide. "You and me? And them?" _From the frying pan into the fire, Weasley...  
_  
"Yes." Hermione looked as if she was trying to think of something to say that would help. "Ron, you helped face down You-Know-Who, you fought off dementors, you out-witted Pettigrew-how bad can parents be? They won't bite, you know."

"With parents it's worse," Ron said nervously.

"Worse?" Hermione repeated.

"Sure. They're parents, they ask questions-_lots_of questions-"

"Questions? What _are_you on about?" Hermione asked in exasperation.

"In class if they ask you a question and you get it wrong-so what? You're wrong," Ron explained. "Besides, they usually tell you right away when you are, like Snape does. But parents, they ask you questions and you answer and you don't know if it was the right answer or not because they just sit and look at you politely either way -and if the answer's wrong it can mess up your_ whole life!"_

"Ron-calm down!" Hermione said in disbelief. "Where in the world are you getting all these ideas?"

"I have big brothers, you know-they've warned me," Ron said.

"Hmm-scare tactics is more like it. But you know my parents already..."

"Yeah."

"And you've gotten along fine before..."

"Yeah. But that was before..."

"Before what?" Hermione asked. "Before they knew you snogged their daughter?"

Ron was silent for a bit, but his knee was bouncing. "Yeah."

Hermione seemed to be trying not to laugh, but her voice was full of amusement. "Well, first of all, they don't know how _much_you've snogged their daughter, if that helps. Second, they knew I'd be snogging someone someday and third-if I'm going to snog anyone, I'm sure they'd be very pleased to know it was you." Hermione turned to circle his waist with her arms and give him a reassuring hug. "It'll be fine."

Ron was relaxing a bit with the idea after her hug and he began to return the hug. _Well, I guess if Hermione's on my side, how much can they say? _"You think so? It'll be all right?"

"I know so. You won't 'answer wrong' and they'll love you as much as I do."

Ron looked down into her face. "Well, yeah-but you can't help yourself."

Hermione lifted her head from his shoulder and peered up at him. "What?"

Ron started to laugh. "It's the animal magnetism. I always try to tell the girls, but they just won't listen..."

Hermione tried to sit up and push him away in mock irritation, but he caught her off-balance and pulled her closer instead, capturing her mouth with his own. For a while, the two of them put Charmless Carrel Number Seven to the use it had gained its reputation for, and they managed it no less expertly than had any of its previous occupants.

Finally, Ron sat up, breathing a bit heavily. "You know, maybe I'd better-we'd better-"

"Perhaps a good idea-" Hermione mumbled, sounding as if it was an effort to get it out.

"Wonder what time it is? I'm thinking that I've not only missed Fred's practice, but I may be missing real practice now."

"Uh-oh," Hermione said, sitting up more herself and straightening things. She smiled. "And was it worth it?"

His cocky grin shone back at her. "Absolutely."

"So, before you have to go," Hermione started, "tell me that again."

Ron looked at her blankly. "Tell you what?" Hermione's expression said he should have known what it was, but he didn't. _More about dinner?_

"You know."

_Everyone's always thinking I know something I __**don't! **__Unless-oh, no, look at those eyes-not that again..._Something about her eyes made it become crystal clear to him. He decided to play utterly clueless, though-just for fun. After all, she did just get revenge for her own 'kidnapping'-_we can't leave things all even now, can we? _"No, I don't think I do know."

_"Those _words- three of them? Starting with 'I' and ending with 'you'?"

Ron looked at her blankly again. "Starting with you and ending with me?"

Balling her hand into a fist, Hermione lightly punched him in the arm.

_Uh-oh, I'm pushing my luck here..._ "Oh,_ those_words-hmm, let me see...Starting with I and ending with you...You mean love? That? That's what goes in the middle?"

She nodded slowly.

Ron knew it was he who was playing with fire at this point, but he continued. "I said that? I did?"

"Yes," she said dryly.

But Ron was still teasing. "Hmm, I don't remember that. Must have been the pain-or maybe I was delirious..."

"Maybe you were," she agreed sarcastically, "or maybe you _will be_after I hex you into oblivion..." Hermione stood and picked up a book bag Ron hadn't even seen under the bench. She started to step across his legs, her only path to the door, but he stood in time to block her.

"Hermione," he tried.

There was no response. She kept looking out the window, but Ron reached out and turned her face to his.

Ron turned on the cocky grin, the charm, everything he knew worked on her when she was piqued. "You know I do." The kiss he gave her then was meant to convince her completely.

After, she was still trying to look angry at him-and was doing a fairly good job of it. But he kept on grinning and pretty soon she smiled back at him, but appeared to be irritated with herself for giving in.

Ron thought it might be safe to ask now. "So are we going to-you know-tonight?"

Hermione looked at him, seeming a bit confused. "I thought we were going to start cutting down, so we don't get too 'used' to it."

"Yeah, but-I don't feel used to it at all. What if I can't go to sleep if we don't?"

"You'll have to someday," Hermione said. "We can't do that every night until-I don't know-until whatever happens with us, happens."

"But it feels so right, and it's-it's _legal,"_ Ron tried to reason. "I'm not _really _there in bed with you, I'm just sleeping next to you in my mind, and no one else knows."

Sleeping next to Hermione every night in his mind since Ireland had been the most amazing feeling that he'd ever had in his life-well, almost-if he couldn't have the real thing. His dorm mates minus Harry (who seemed to have some idea what was going on) thought he was losing it- because for some reason, these days, he just couldn't wait to get to bed early. (He'd told them all he just needed the extra sleep to 'recover from his ordeal'.)

Hermione smiled at his terminology. "It's 'legal'? There just aren't enough telempaths in the world for there to be special laws on the books for you, that's all."

Ron began to think he might be getting his toe in the door. "And we don't ever do anything besides sleep-that's part of 'our' rules for now, right?"

"Yes."

"Have I ever broken the rules?"

Hermione sighed-she appeared to know where he was heading with this. "No, I suppose not."

Ron went on, but he suddenly sounded a bit eager. "Besides, if I _was_ going to break the rules, you can bet it wouldn't be in the connection. That's one thing I intend to do first in the _real_world."

"Honestly, Ron! " Hermione furrowed her brow at him. "All right, we're done with this discussion. Look, I've got to get to the library-and they're going to kick you off the team if you don't get to practice." She stepped past him enough to open the door this time and head out into the corridor.

By the time Ron had collected his gear and stepped into the hallway behind her, she had gotten ahead of him by a dozen steps or so.

Ron walked slowly behind her, trying to juggle all his gear, and had to speak loudly. "So what do you think-one more night?"

Several older students passing in the hallway looked at them oddly-Ron blushed.

Hermione called back to him without turning around. "No."

"Just one?" _Turn around, Hermione-turn around and tell me to my face-bet you can't do it, Hermione...I know I couldn't say it to you..._

She was still facing away from him as she walked. "No!" she called out, tossing her head. But then she did turn, just a little, just enough to peek over her shoulder and catch his eyes with her own before she spoke more quietly. "Well, maybe..." She kept walking.

_You're on, Weasley! Go for it, but it better be good!_

Connecting with anyone through their emotions was getting easier every day-and he could connect with Hermione in a heartbeat now. He knew the connection would go so fast and easy that she wouldn't even know he was there in her mind. _Someday I'll find the guts to tell her out loud...someday...but for now... _He knew just what would work, just how it would make her feel; he could find just the right voice in his mind and just the right timbre..._think soft, smooth, warm...  
_  
*I love you.*

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. She slowly turned and he could almost feel the heat coming his way, her eyes already enough to fall into, her smile dazzling him into mush as always. Ron was trying to hold strong, but his senses and everything about him were under siege. His eyes connected with hers and he could feel her look heating up everything inside of him. She held up one delicious finger in the air and looked up at him through those eyelashes.

*One-more-night.* She continued the smile just long enough that he feared he would be reduced to a puddle right there in the hallway. Then she swung around and silently walked into the library.

As she disappeared, he found he had been holding his breath-he blew it out slowly through pursed lips. Good thing he was going to the Quidditch field now. After an especially grueling workout and an ice-cold shower, he might trust himself to get within ten feet of her later.

Whether it seemed odd to anyone else or not, Ron didn't care. The huge smile on his face was fairly bursting out of him-there was just no fighting it or any reason to do so. He strode quickly down the hallway toward practice, grinning like a madman, thinking of how right sixteen was starting to feel.

No longer was he 'just Ron', Harry Potter's sidekick. Nor was he Ronniekins, youngest of all his well-accomplished brothers-certainly not the Ron who was poor and completely insignificant in the world.

Now he was Ron, the excellent player on a superb Quidditch team. Ron, who was entrusted with a special way to stand alongside and defend his best friend through all the trials they would face in the years to come defeating the Dark Lord. And most importantly to him, he was Ron, to whom Hermione had given her heart.

He used to think that all he'd ever be was just Ron.

The only difference was that now...

that was enough.

**### FIN ###  
**

_For the final time here I would like to thank, from the bottom of my heart, __**Christina Teresa**__, my wonderful beta reader, someone who became a friend as well along the way. She kept me honest and did everything necessary to make me become the best writer I could be, sometimes forcing me to find something in myself that I didn't even know existed. Trust me, Christina, 'Points' would not have been close to the same without you._

I would also like to thank

_**sunshyndaisies, **__my friend, R/Hr consultant and writer extraordinaire in her own right. If you've ever read her work, you know that her Ron and Hermione are so real and true to canon that they could walk off the page and into your world right now. I felt her approval was necessary for any Ron/Hermione interaction you saw in 'Points' before it ever went for posting-thank you for everything, Jen!_

_**And for all of my wonderful readers...**_

Thank you for joining me on the long journey that became

_**Points of No Return**__ and a special thanks to every single one of you who has ever reviewed an author's story-any author's story-in a responsible way at some time. I've often said that I've been very lucky to have attracted the __**best**__readers and reviewers to 'Points' and I stand by that statement to the end._

If you didn't really 'know' Ron before, I hope you've learned to understand him better by seeing life in the Potterverse from his perspective . If you did like him before, I hope 'my Ron' fulfilled all of your expectations, and let you love him just a bit more.

You have all helped mold what this story came to be with your feedback, sharing, encouragement, critiquing, suggestions, compliments, and yes, friendship. You cheered me on to continue, you supported and kept me going through the difficult times, and you helped me go with the flow through the easy ones. It was you who convinced me I could do this-all of you- without your encouragement, I never would have made it. So please congratulate yourselves for a job well done.

And if I've managed to entertain you for an hour that would have otherwise bored you to tears, or helped you forget what you were upset about on some bad day, or let you remember through the characters for a moment what life used to feel like at sixteen-then I've done my job.

Thank you for the opportunity to write 'Points' for you.

_**You remain the best!  
**__  
__**~~Night Zephyr~~**__  
_


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